If you look outside right now, it will be raining.

Trust me.

It’s raining and the drops mimic the dancing flame of a candle. Here, you and me, we’ve found ourselves in a place where it is (in fact) raining, even if it’s not.

Candlelight is wet, and bounces between mirror-like surfaces.

This world is situated in the dimension of question: dream-like reality.

As if you’ve just awoken from a dream, waking into question and the soft welcome of light. This light opens bridges of receptivity to curiosity: synonymous with magic.

In this dimension, we close our eyes and imagine exactly where we’d like to be, and there we are. In this dimension, the lens of magic is a form of analysis for structures around us. With this, we build new architecture around ourselves, in ourselves - as we analyze ourselves through the steps we take and the pathways they carve.

My memory gives me space to lean into // i trip without worrying if i’ll fall

feet sink into the sand 

flight with ankles in heavy, wet dirt

imprint the concrete air with breath

My whole body is a lung and a wave and the rings of a tree

The tulips keep inverting and my evening

gloves can’t hold

onto my fingers.

To lean into time and dream

of waltzing in pitch black ether through anonymous walls that

don’t exist except 

through seeing in dreamful-

awakeness and the space in between eye contact

Do you taste this wind, too?

Can you taste my dreams?