you wake up

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YOU WAKE UP AT 5AM, when thought-tides are low and the inner and outer worlds meet. As your wife sleeps, you slide into your slippers. They become a raft you ride down an unknown river that calls you, and you dive down until blue turns into something deeper.

In that great darkness, words promise nothing and you can no longer tell if you’re a person, a fish or water—all sense of place, history, fall away. Here, moth wings carry a map of the world, the moon balances on a blade of grass, and everything is new: storms, rain, the rusted door, even the stories you tell about yourself.