You Shall Know Our Velocity

What did we want? We want the world smaller and bigger and just the same but advancing. We don’t know what we want.

I was feeling everything too much. Everything was pulling at my eyes.

Hand took a breath and opened his palms, as if accepting the gift of rain. "YOU SHALL KNOW OUR VELOCITY!" he bellowed into the cold exhausted city.

When we pass by another person without telling them we love them it’s cruel and wrong and we all know this.

What are we allowed to do when we’re looking for things we’re required to do?

We’d have a motherfucking shitload of dogs! Horses. Peacocks. Oh to live among peacocks. I’d seen them once in person and they defied so many laws of color and gravity that they had to be made geniuses waiting to take over everything.

There are people who meet strangers and people, like me, who know only those they’ve known from birth

We sleep when we fall. We only sleep when we can’t move anymore. That’s juvenile. But it means everything. It’s the illusion of progress. Staying awake isn’t progress. The illusion is enough.

— Mr. Churchill you were given a mission.

— Yes

— I want to have been given your mission. I want your place in world events, the centrality of it. You were born in the cradle of a catapult!

— You are wrong. I found my mission.

— I disagree.

— If you must.

— Tell me: where is my mission? Where are my bunkers and trenches, my goddamn Gallipoli?

I was a looker someone who looked over at every car at every traffic light, hoping something would happen, and almost never finding anyone looking back- always everyone looking forward, and every time I felt stupid. Why should people look over at you? Why would they care?

But that in any city, in any cluster of people, there a few people who are awake at this hour, who are both awake and dancing, and it’s here that we need to be. That if we are living as we were this week, that we had to be awake with the people who are still dancing.