Through an infinite tube- the echoes of collateral voices, of cancer and guttural insanity, of an old lady's distrust of gay pride, to the sleepy and silent bus ride through tunnels and over bridges and up the street, the city lights reflecting like constellations on the black glass lake water, black silhouettes of trees against a lighter shaded sky, passing in the hills in the distance, a few miles wide water, navigate through the clouds, the rain of a crying goddess. the plants and breaths and live all surrounded here within and the junk piled up, the extraction and subsequent total exhaustion this morning... move on. ...