Together we mapped the order of things lying down. Occasionally, you spoke some words I did not understand. And down through the skin to the bones, glittering-glittering, and through the bones until darkness merges with marrow. Something opened up. By the hesitant shore we walked through mountains of razor shells and looked out towards the slowness of the sea. The sentences are an ocean. In the morning I sit there, slowly, reading about sand, about the sand, the movements of the sand across itself.