heralded by the birds, i am moving up the hill to the broadness of the sky, in the anticipation of the flat. there are six of them today, little orbs, but this time with lights, that blinker on off, on off, as they communicate with me. two ladies wait as i play with their puppy, so many feet, and i wonder if their feeling merges with that of having made something, having given birth. are they proud? two chinese women gamble with language, like it is a game they are playing, and i can't fathom how someone might be able to make sense of all those things they are saying. my ankle hurts and so i slow down to a walk, wonder if i will ever be as small as my mum is. i used to think that when people died, there would be some cry the world made, so that everyone could know. i don't imagine that happened as you sat there, and that is the worst thing, the way it could have been days.