A blur has crept into my thoughts, over the course of time, the words have gone soggy, in-between talks, soaked sponges, filled with my tears, maybe, the words have gone porous, fissured, broken in the face of their expectations, now they drift, onward, outward, I gaze at the water’s edge and diffuse in their attempts, I

can lose myself, to love, to the people, to water, surface, about 100 times, dive in, about 200 times, conceive an idea for a text, watch it, sprawling and sprawling, until it has grown beyond myself like ivy on a grave, and I can no longer write the text, I can: do almost nothing, because I do not know anything, close to nothing, only about jellyfish, they, too, do not have a heart, and about thermal bridges in walls, across a body of water that calls for me, every person would interrupt, me: tell it the right way, start at the beginning,

and I would reply to everyone,