It always starts with an action, something declarative and definitive but not demonstrably physical. Then there is embellishment and evidence, an expansion out from the action in order to accentuate the effect. After that is reflection, a refractory rumination rounding out the edges of the aforementioned effect and action. At this point the threads should be evident, weft wedded into a semi-linear web whereupon a conclusion is wrought, coalescing at the intersection. Though an ending is sought here, often the affect is an actionable question, and so often it closes out open for more, reflection effecting an action.
I feel her hand on my shoulder, incalculable aeons of stardust settling. You should be working, a whisper. ‘I was daydreaming about you,’ I say. Only the day? A solar echo. That seems restrictive. Her laughter spools out, universally intertwining light and sound, gravitational waves and electromagnetism. Every move she makes causes an affect. ‘I wish you were here,’ I say, finding myself laughing. It took so long to parse, with nothing but theory until I’d felt the physics. I reach through space to take our hand and her voice is mine, ‘Even when I’m not there—’ I’m here.
A Few Short Words 