Sometimes I am missing something crucial — I just know it — an unmistakable yet unidentifiable fact. Usually I lose it; I am left fearful it might not return, but also that it might. But sometimes, during those moments of clarity that one can only have if they let go, I am struck like the full face of the Sun; I can feel that I am blind, that the world sees without me. Forces like bugs burrow into my life, and they burrow out. These bugs like you are part of what I am, but your way is not my way. There is no exit from the sand; there are but passages to fill, passages to empty.