The world collapses with the open and shut of eyes and I wonder if we all feel the same on the inside. The cauterized wounds of daylight blurring into sleep sanctuaries. Skimming the surface of our consciousness, turn by turn we choose challenges that bring higher truths. Liquid soul in every iris and we patiently wait for the next day to begin to start over. Swimming through memories, samsaric visions that carry our futures and remind us of the times we walked away too quickly. These characters that haunt us, the fragments of faces that we never recognized because our brain takes notice of everything, even in the early morning and late night. Revisiting the warmth of strangers voices, the brush of hair caught by wind and the charming corner lipped smile of a friend leaving. Our dreams alive, dimensions merging and converging into dejavu but we find it hard to believe in the soft sides of human, prone to the humbling hurts. The vitalities, the vibrant sun changing colors on hardwood floor and silver transparency of flower petals. Our skin on the in, no limits of boned limbs or gravitational pulls, we float into every story and write the pages of our own destinies. Each inky dab a new transition into fear or love, these hands full of universes small but ever growing expansion of magic branched opportunity. We can’t help but wonder about the place on the other side of faces, under the layers we embrace and discard when death carries us home.