At night I dreamt of trees.
As soon as we arrived, we felt there were no trees.
It was like an island without trees.
We lived by simple needs.
Cup, bowl, stick, shade.
But the green was gone as if we were living in the time after a wildfire.
In some of the dead wires there were voices.
I feel that I miss someone who I have lost and can’t remember, but that person is not on this earth.
The sea was compressed into this chest—a blue wooden chest.
In this box there is a hurricane.
In this box there is a climate.
I began to think of your lungs as a condensation of a rainstorm
and maybe that was why you looked so tired.
When we sat in the room beside the closed box, we had to sit for a long time to take it in the way eyes take a long time to take in great distances, distances that were making us tired. But also made us stretch into other ways of being.
Certain astral phenomena were sent to us.
We began to receive messages in the form of boxes.
These boxes we could not open
To access them would be to cause them to leak out and disappear.
They exist because of the conditions of the box.
The box is the limit that makes these conditions possible.
Your body is the limit that makes my seeing you possible,
otherwise you might infiltrate me, you might disappear.