Near a year

since my last entry here. What has transpired in the since, Willard: it is hard to say. Time passes. We play with our mechanical creations. We have loved, lost some, lost weight. Got thin. We are barely there, and to be clear, we are not there at all: we are here. I am here. This space is not a place, but it is a meeting point. It feels like my brain is still as it was then, that it contains the then. Maybe it has been frozen out. The weather on my windows feels weird. I was in a car that crashed. I thought about children. I ran a distance. Climbed a mountain. Made new enemies before I knew it. Then they became anemonies, stinging my skin gently as I moved through them.

There is them and me. There is world and self. There is self and self, and I am not so sure they are the same moment to moment. Electrically I am different now. Electrically I am different now. Electrically, chemically, I am different now. I am in a different state. I am in a state that is not North, that has not, or little, snow, unless you go looking for it. I am not exactly lonely. I am lonely, but not exactly. Think of me here and this: a tesseract is a four-dimensional version of the cube, also sometimes called a hypercube. Which is to say it connects with, maps to what we think of as ourselves. But it--us--is also larger than us, outside of our own understanding. I think about this only when alone.