I haven’t been able to choose the moments yet. All of the instants nose their own way up, a small thread in the dense fabric of a circuitous (but somehow still unimaginable) world that gets plucked out, leaving a single singing end - an access point – stand I haven’t been able to choose the moments yet. All of the instants nose their own way up, a small thread in the dense fabric of a circuitous (but somehow still unimaginable) world that gets plucked out, leaving a single singing end - an access point – standing at self-directed attention: a leaf flipping itself upside down to expose its silver belly in the electricity of wind. Each access point jumps me into the larger context of history and future (circuitous, as previously noted) and reveals time in its non-linear hula-hoop realness, swaying and gyrating as I paddle my way through a life that only pretends to have a beginning and an end. I’ve seen you before: a silver leaf, sure, but also that moment when the carnival operator stops the ride from going around and opens the gate and lets you on and locks you in and then makes it keep going around at self-directed attention: a leaf flipping itself upside down to expose its silver belly in the electricity of wind. Each access point jumps me into the larger context of history and future (circuitous, as previously noted) and reveals time in its non-linear hula-hoop realness, swaying and gyrating as I paddle my way through a life that only pretends to have a beginning and an end. I’ve seen you before: a silver leaf, sure, but also that moment when the carnival operator stops the ride from going around and opens the gate and lets you on and locks you in and then makes it keep going around.