somewhere, not here, someone who might have been me, and someone who might have been you, are celebrating. someone is sitting on a chair and someone feels happy and overwhelmed, everyone there does. there is activity in the room, and motion and ripping, and all of those people, those people who might have been us, are so filled up with things, with the way they are filled with joy. and maybe it wouldn't have been like that at all, maybe it would have been different, and maybe the life of things would have drained away by now. but in my head and in the fissure of my life, i imagine it like that. and this is for you.