I’ve stalled on the threshold of the night. When I wrote your name in the light, a moonbeam fell through my window.

I flick through the pages of some random book. I know we disappeared. Sentences are an ocean. The sentences are tangled threads. My bones are also making sounds, and inside them a dark being undulates and moves. I could feel the fragile truth. I get the day going, writing quietly. The sand fretted my thoughts, made them round and soft until they disappeared. I try to draw your dark eyes in my sentences. The sand fretted my thoughts, made them round and soft until they disappeared.