the miracle which is a home-cooked meal encourages memory, image and possibility to fold in on one another. I am in the eye of a moshpit. I am in my mother’s kitchen. I am the ebb and flow of the ocean. I am the beach disappeared by the tide. I am the breath between notes. I am the silence. I don’t know myself any more. I am floating, floating. I am closed off, a total eclipse.
