A study in becoming less structured and more true.
This is, for real, a great time. Falling down the rabbit hole of novelty makes for fascinating dreams. Wake up and follow them through.
Every day the butterfly visits me in one form or another. “Chrysalis.” She comes out through the TV show I put on in the background, on the radio program in my uber, on a webpage about film (I must have conjured her through the story). Or she conjured herself through my memory. “It’s not so much a death, as it is a transformation.” The radio lady’s voice echoes in my head.
Calm chaos. Calm chaos. Calm chaos. I saw solitary people, I saw a couple of cars. I turned the block, solitary. I spied an amber cat, old and full, strong, slink under the car. Calm chaos. He came out under the car, descended down the stairs. I opened the door and walked back into the apartment. Everything is quiet.