The black sheen of an old cast-iron griddle, its oily smell when heated. The pucker in the back of a man’s powder-blue dress shirt. The smell of a cedar plank fractured along a grain line. Sparks of sunlight reflecting from waves. The shape of the letter P. Finding your exact location on a map. Shortening your stride as you approached a curb. Moving around in a house—walls you can’t pass through, doors you can. Remaining upright. Balance. Standing on one foot. Bubbles on the bottom of a pan getting ready to boil. Having an appetite. Just having been hit on the nose. The opening strains of
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