Where are we? What the hell is going on? The dust has only just begun to form, crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling. Spin me round again and rub my eye, this can't be happening. When busy streets a mess with people would stop to hold their heads heavy. Hide and seek. Trains and sewing machines. All those years... they were here first. Oily marks appear on walls where pleasure moments hung before. The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this still life. Hide and seek. Trains and sewing machines. Oh, you won't catch me around here. Blood and tears. They were here first. What you say? That you only meant well? Well, of course you did. What you say? That it's all for the best? Ah of course it is. What you say? That it's just what we need? And you decided this. What you say?

What did she say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth. Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.Speak no feeling, no, I don't believe you.

You don't care a bit.

All we have, and all that we are, exist within the tones of tension that resonate from the relational ties we create. Like the strings from a violin, the music is all bound up here. It's all we can know. You, me, he... we. It is our identity. It's a give and take. Mutually defined, encircled by power plays and politics and vastly jarring notions of truth and love - we live in a world dictated by identities.

Now, my identity has been a continual process of give and take. But I will remember what I had to give up in order to take, and I will reclaim it when the time comes. And when I find my identity solidified again, I can only hope that I haven't lost too much.

And, I only speak to what is mine. Not yours. My journey. My map!