I'm coming back from what I believe to be a multi-year psychosis. There's so many days, months, years, here and there, that seem to be haze. Things I don't remember writing, others I know I did, but are lost to manic destruction and deletion, submission to wherever all the other lost things go. I'm recollecting myself. It's such a slow process. But it's like stirring again to the presence of a dusty light beam after sitting in a dark room you only learned was dark, when that light crept in.













