A movement through barrier and space, a telling transformation that distinguishes an after-the-fact from a before-you-could-see, a revelation in which the body creates breath and shape and meaning from the things it held onto and the things that held onto it and the withholding that keeps us from remembering our experiences as the world as it used to be. What was becomes a notebook page torn from its seams and left to disintegrate with the leaves, with the passing seasons, as with old calendars stripped from tattered walls and left to fade under the sun.