i'm slowly selling my belongings. now donna and dave are holding hands and talking on the floor. sometimes you come to an edge that just breaks off. when everything has disappeared into the light. but keep it strange. those three things. well it looks like the strangeness eclipsed itself, turned inside out became too familiar too close. who are you am me? one, flip, divide, mirror, watching me from far/close. what happened to you to i who to? like two particles in a complex sentence we sit side by side moving forward. yet the traveler, once in a long while, comes to a place he is sure, never having seen it before, is the one he was seeking. he enters. at first everything inside is so saturated with strangeness it is hard to breathe-- but look now: already it is drying in from the edges like rainwater and he will in fact never after be able to recover that blankness in which he saw it first, the surgery of the first look. that moment of pure anthropology.