Little dents in the ground have collected rain and become portals to other places. Better places. Distant places. I peer in at them with fascination and that familiar longing.
I wave to the tiny people I see, but I know they don’t see me. They’re the same as the big ones up here.
Unobserved, I watch; breathe. I want secret things and I know secret things. I hold the secrets of nothing and nowhere; mapping the periphery of everything and everywhere.