This morning I saw on CNN a study decided the depressed use "between" more frequently than "happy." Then I saw a cyclops' eye. Where I touched the window a raindrop ticked. An anchor sighed. Maybe empathy is noticing where the leaf changes greens. I buy the light that lets me see the little images I click. Some of them are words. Some of them are holding books up like hushed second heads. "Put putty where they sleep so they won't dream" is intimate as this screen. The ones I want are in bins beneath the salable; for a long time I didn't know to look for them.
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