This is a story about being a person, and then continuing to be a person, for as long as it takes.

What is this dust-colored, sideways grinning dog doing out here in the parking lot?

I wanted to tell you something about the place where the storm whips up the waves so strongly that the boundary between them is uncertain, and about the one-eyed crab who clicks up and down the beach, and about castles, sometimes.

Text for the new brochure, a lot of places have those at the front desk so people can get to know a little about the place, right? We should have one of those at the Palace of Breath!

Ok, everyone, I know we're all upset and looking to POINT FINGERS but before you start calling us up you should listen to this and see if it answers some of your questions.

A story about how we see ourselves, and eachother, assuming that we are a patch of ocean or a different patch of ocean or one of many creatures living in what used to be a whale.

I'm always happy to see her.

A nighttime transmission from the lonely highway.

A story about people and things talking to each other in hallways. Inspired by Bill Irwin's "On Beckett."

An incomplete list.

1. like a dime between subway rails

2. like time lost

3. like a knife in the skin

4. like a seedling out of a seed

5. like truth