Here’s a view. I am standing in the kitchen of my new place. This is a view of aloneness, of silence, of — . I view words that ascribe meaning to a woman, a writer, an artist, a disciple, this discipline. This new place is my place, is a castle, is a fortress, an apartment, a dwelling, a studio, a mindset. I am inside of a large, white, open room. I am an open room. I am open room, full of space and echo. I am 9 floors above the street. There is a garden on the roof which I can also call my own. The sun paints it red. The suns definition is never seen. One cannot easily spot the orb, the source — only the glow. The light of dawn and dusk is a smear that diminishes as it drops down into the Earth. It silhouettes halos along the edge of the buildings and the permeating pollution. Nothing, it seems, can effervesce, but I still feel it rising it in me. Rising up. I am reverent for the sky’s acclaim.

Here’s an inside view of the same room (and not). There are keys on the table, and this artifact of possession (a key ((a map’s legend?)) reminds me that I have made something. I have a place for all this space. This is my creation. My ears are silently belting a morse code of minutes, the days are a washing of finitude and infinitude. They are cotton to tin. I am the water. They rub against each other. I wash them with the hours. They are fresh laundered observations being rung over tin in my brain. I am of an infinite being. On the other side of the door, sunken down into the red red-lit earth, there is a community of energy, spirit, love and grace that is mine also. I’ve claimed it. I have it. I possess it like the keys, and while I’ve grown accustomed to the strokes I swim in this sea, the muscles I use to float and make way, to move distance in a body of water, I sometimes forget what my voice sounds like. I wonder what I sound like. Is there someone to hear (this) way, the wave that gesticulates in my heart muscle – that pump of blood and heat. We are constantly holding and letting go. I seek no validation. I myself am sufficient. The east and the west are mine. I am larger, bigger than I thought. I am an open room of space and time. I think I always knew that I held this goodness. This ascription, here (on the page!) is the only furnishing needed to dress the walls of this place.

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