Even outward of my hips, the leg recalls limping across the sea, longing for low and hollow sounds like urchins might make. After islands appeared, the compass showed and my head looked up. Sky, that day, seemed to be less than distant. There's still a feeling of being crushed, still anxiety regarding the possibility of sky matching shore. Even, of being upside down. And all these inside thoughts near open windows, and still the sky is bright. When I move towards outward, towards someone else, it seems he slowly moves further, moves towards sycamore or bird, something casting a shadow. The way he moves away, the way I stay in one position for more than an hour lures me towards sleep. Towards the way my brain folds memory over memory.
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