we move until the cold holds us in place; or else we disappear into the endless overhanging sky

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when we wake to find ourselves abandoned, we tend to go back to sleep

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i don’t understand, bumps are no more stationary than the rest of the log

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in many ways, diffusing the light is worse than blocking it out

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to reflect is an art form, to shine is more like respiration: we must do both, we rarely do either

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what you were is always seen in what you are

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floating can look like survival, even when it isn’t

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what makes you memorable to others may not be anything you are all that proud of; but remember, no one can see through the shape of anyone else’s experience