Enormous things change

Enormous things change. The ocean laps back and forth between the coasts and swirls down underneath itself into lightless caverns. The sand drifts along down the beach and the sky where it was filled with clouds turns bright brown and where it had been white a faint rain falls. I try to keep it off of my skin. It runs down my coat and over my shoes and through the veins on my hands. I lift the hair off of my neck and as I walk a raindrop falls under my collar, runs between my shoulderblades and soaks into my underclothes. It makes my neck hard and I feel that I need to pivot my head to keep my neck from crumbling into flakes. I stop under a street tree. I choose to let the anxiety of the rain fill my body. The drop and the track of rain down my back are still damp and my skin tenses. It is all forward through this feeling. Something is in the moment and it displaces the last moment. It replaces the last moment. I push out the life that I live for the one that is coming each moment. After some little shock materializes my body out of nothing I am nothing but my body. The rain drips out of the tree in larger drops and I am nothing but my neck and shoulders, wet through my clothes. I cant climb out of the wetness. It is stuck to me. The noon is filled with fine threads of rain that tickle everywhere. Nothing has happened, a blank before a vision could arise into it out of the shapes that blankness harbours. I need to find my apartment on this street. I need to replace this, and that.

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