December 25, 2015:
The gray man dances.
Across a house of memory and spilled food, glancing at objects, connecting their interstices, their connotations, the conatus that brings them exactly here, to this location, at this time, for these reasons, in these histories, nowhere else, for a limited time, as in time all things are limited.
Outside the sun sets, dogs bark, leaves rustle, the trash needs taking. Light a candle: another day is done.