what secrets do you have for me today, little building, in the crevices you have made for me between things? this is a daily exercise, this one of self restraint, the way i am held by the chair, the way i cannot let it go. we know what is happening, don't you think? the man with the pregnant belly, the woman in a veil and heels, me, in the corner, looking at the wall. sometimes i think there are too many noises, that they are too bodily. they rise up, from mouths and ears and bottoms, running for my ears, so i can hold them. they are faster than i am. the irrational is visceral, is so akin to pleasure and to pain, is not even bothering to make a passage. and here i am, in the chamber made by sounds, wondering why it is that i am left here.