Just a head on the pike of a body, perturbed. Throngs in the streets of Paris, storming the Bastille; a hurricane of humanity. Only when we have humans can we have inhumanity, yet it seems to me the animal kingdom adheres to its unwritten, unnecessary laws more often than we legislators, we commanders, we governors. Questioning motivation, questioning motion, emotion, moving up and out of, over, beyond. Emotion as transcendence, transcending what? An earthly plane, a plain earth. Salting the plains, Hannibal weeping. The crest of an empire, the curl, the descent: the crumbling. America is over. Why do I care? Investment, interest. Curiosity. Understanding instead of judging, but all I know is all I know, is all I can think about. Knowledge as distraction, as a way to dismantle my atomic bomb. Atom, atomos, indivisible; splintered, split. Objective. Facticity. Stable knowledge, but knowledge itself is unstable. Shifts in consciousness, sands uncovering only to cover up another’s face. Breathing in a sandstorm. Coated with sand from the inside out, writing on sand paper, writing on sand. “Here lies one whose name was writ in water,” water to quench the thirst of the desert. Too much sand, too little water. The desert of the sea, the expanse of ocean beneath sky, the expanse of sky beneath space. Standing at the shore, feeling the breeze. Tasting salt on my tongue, the salt that allows my neurons to fire. Sodium potassium pumps. Necessity. Superfluity, the salt water that makes me thirstier as I drink. Life of Pi, infinitely repeating decimals. It goes on and on and on, but when did it start? Why so we care about symbols, why do I care so much about symbols? Symbolism vs. realism, what is real are my symbols. I have made them real. They mean too much to mean, they mean more than I do. Symbols consume me. Here is what I mean. He spoke of some peace, some peace, some peace, some tranquility, on the tranquility of the mind, Seneca, being related to Native Americans coming over the Bering Strait in three waves of immigrants, crossing the landbridge. The sky and sea, the sky and sea. The Aeneid, wondering what strange lands these are, wondering if my feet will sink into the sand. Quicker sand, the quick, the living. The quick and the dead, speeding up. Acceleration. Force equals mass times acceleration, acceleration supposes a trajectory. Where am I going? Crunched by gravity, weight dependent upon gravity, the gravity of the situation. Wanting to float away.