The sea where it was, it was arduous. I imagined a superterranean line from you to me. What I saw in the sea made me not ravenous. Some children like to wallflower. While supper shook onto the floor from the constant shelling, potatoes and peas stuck to my spoon. I sat the bear down in my recurring dream and begged it to be good. Over a number of lines you’re no more related to me than birds who flock at the close of day, some here, some there. Corner is to hide, and open plain is to see what’s coming. I hold my breath between seconds as if there’s anything but between.