Feelings flood in from somewhere like a glass case with a leak. Like pages of a book unbound and spewed in countless directions by a restless wind. Like what remains left on the cutting room floor after the crew has left.

And yet, it suddenly makes sense.

Watercolour waves wash the insides of eyelids. Elemental dreams devour every though, every sense, every fibre. And something like a mix of intuition and instinct grasps at the edge of a just-before-consciousness.

There is a fluttering, a beating, a pulse that is life, that is music, that is love and left behind. It’s sleeping and waking in one, it is knowing and wondering, and being completely sure in a single breath.

Comfort seeps through the cracks and under the partially opened door. Whispered syllables all sound the same and say one thing, one intangible, concrete message.

Somewhere, we collide.

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