first thoughts pool around the toes, viscous, milk-pearl drops dripping slow a languid rhythm of pipes in need of professional care but more now, flowing, bottle of molasses and faster now, laminar layers arc in loose cords, loose cords over the waistline and over the thighs — ocean now, pushes through the garden hose, too many, too much, overflow the pool and over the storm wall and over the floorboards now, point clouds of white lights and redyellowgreenblueviolet paint those floorboards, paint the darkness, before the sun, before the first runners and dog walkers and leaf blowers and engines, pained, in need of professional care, howl and clip the waking world and compress the waveform, collapse the function, before it can close the bottle, close the ocean
“why am i the way that i am?”
the camera is in the center of the head, the body just two arms that end in hands holding various objects — a candle, a lighter, a gift
frames render, flash and fade, and the hands hold various objects — cup of tea, leash, bottle of pills, a hand
the hand holds various objects — shattered glass, fired clay, baked potato, nurse’s call button, cloves ground directly into my hand they started their life on the side of the road in munduk — they caught the eye and attention of my father and mother and in a grinder they would make a perfect gift a perfect encapsulation of why this journey was not solely a vacation and how can this be explained in a christmas card because it smells, rich and fragrant, potent, and, crushed, the oil is expressed, and it is wet, and it is on the hands now, the hands that end the arms that hang in space around the empty torso and
the camera pulls back — it is ten feet behind the player character, and five above, at a pitch of 30 degrees, to give a better view of the environment
he has a body — it is built of the people around him
he has a voice — it sings words placed for him by the builders of the body
he reaches down and cups the hands into the opalescence, now shin-deep, and the milk-pearl pools in the palms. after a short moment of quiet, the little pool in the hand puffs up, like kerupuk udang in hot oil, and expands into a perfect sphere, a christmas ornament built of memory