This is how you will go. Without applause. With a bump here and there. In relaxed turbulence. By finding meaning in a small thing which you weren’t aware of when it happened, and which you will forget a second later. This is how you will go. Addled, and all at once, but like a double-door,

and without a door-handle of doubt that it’s happening in-side too. And there. And this. This is how you will have to go to get through it. Head first without thinking so much. Flutter-kicking. Bellyaching. With things that make strong eggs, and endless. And heart. And it will be exactly the same as the last time

it worked, except with more memory and less remembering, and probably not in public. It won’t work exactly like a rope twisting an endless topology of impossible knots so easy. It could easily smell like a skunk, like life-like…