someone told me i was easy once, in a way that referenced looseness, the heaviness of flopping limbs. someone said it and it hung in the air in a way that made me think of talcum, that made me think of paint. there are new spaces to find here every day, under the heavy covers of coldness the winter lays on us, under all the things we have been thinking. light is segmented by space, and i am segmented just by myself. it seems like a better way to be, underneath things, in the place where the warmth is.