A tolerable day is established by morning. I welcome the sun only in intervals, past breakfast and definitely not before. If my mother leaves a bowl of organic oatmeal basking in low heat: I press a button twice, check for raisins, and walk in a circle before sitting down. Typically, I have a book to obliterate the dull sight of objects. Reading yesterday's newspaper is okay, too, but I don't read each article with seriousness.
When the temperature lowers, the heater responds with immediate protection. All doors and windows are naturally closed, it's winter and nobody likes discolored hands. Mute, immobile, dull- I identify with the same objects I sought to avoid. I read quietly. I emit a sigh in vain.
The possibility of imperceptible openings is annulled.
I anticipated your visit.
Now a shiny blade massages my interior; unclean wounds are long years of affliction.
