Of the hunter:
It has been three days since I saw him. The gleam of the barrel of the rifle, the rustle of the ground debris, because of the cover and concealment I have found. Very few know what true safety can be like, and yet here I am.
Of the prey:
The ground crumbles and even when he spreads himself out, the substance under him turns to sand falling through the ever-small glass port of the hourglass. He couldn’t stop it, no one could.
The needle pulses from empty to full. Somewhere, something heavy lays on the power lines, bouncing up and down in a turbulent wind. It said strength like waves of the sea, how I long to know this.
Of John Lennon:
“Wherever you are you are here… Wherever you are you are here.”
Of the prey:
It is apparent, something you have is something the hunter intends to take.
Of the girl from the spaceship:
“What would you do if you were not afraid?”
Of my nineteen year old self:
Taking what is at hand.
Of the hunter:
I have been tracking you since the night you saw the streets painted with warnings five decades ago. The hall light that slipped 50 miles away and you could not get it back. The arguments, other conversations, all weaving the web in which you cannot get away.
Of the prey: No. My understanding is more vast than you know. My rage is incredible. My advocate is unbeatable. So, no. It does not matter about the painted streets, the hall light, the noises, the man who followed me up the dark stairs on July 13, 1977. My crash landing into safety only to foolishly question my foundation. It is a game to distract me. I know where I am.
Every now and then I forget that the fragments identified in September 2016 have been assembled just like a thousand piece puzzle. So to the girl from the sky, my answer to your question is: Watch this.
