Visitor

(This is the most recent piece in a project that begins here.)

Procedure, then, is inevitable.
And so much nomenclature.
Three, four, perhaps five layers of dialect and syntax are instanced at once.
Then there are the functions, speculation, theorisation, creation, etcetera.
I came to see someone write words, I was the visitor.
I’m often the visitor.
Someone tries to tie in a thread, something to do with time.
I don’t quite take to the idea so I leave it to those that wish to fiddle with the ends.
I like it though, the way it feels, seems.
Seems.
Perception.
Identity.
It’s all here, here beneath the footfalls.
In the condensation of the breath in the air.
The gathering of cells, respiration and ambulation.

I have been them all.
And also not enough.
There will always be this representation of digestion to remind me of hunger, of awareness.
Of knowledge.
A series of brief beginnings and endings, bracketing short, episodic interactions and events.
Short events.
We try to tell this narrative.
But as a guest, I stop.
I can already see without stretching, peering, squinting to regulate the light.
Someone external was quite correct in telling me once ‘It will all make sense when you reach thirty.’
Indeed.