I don’t know what this is but it’s running around. It’s like a sappy harmonica playing in the background. It’s a shell and it’s empty. It’s a highlighter pen, leaking. I discovered today, and yesterday, but more precisely the day before that, that these things we pretend we don’t do, we can do them. These things we were told in the pre-historic ages were not our thing or place, they are ours. Those skills we let go of, they never went anywhere. That these barriers erected invisible; well, they don’t really exist.