Like filling a glass box with pigeons and breaking the box before it gets so tight inside none of them can breathe. Then sitting down, and watching their wings silhouette in the sky. Each day it felt like this; there are many men who could explain to you who they are by recounting one day’s worth of events; because they repeat. We walked away from the submarine and all of us were soundproofed to each other. The sun was like a lime in the distance as it began its hiding behind the mountains’ ice cubes; my teeth were chattering loud enough that I held my hand over my mouth to shut them up. I was fooled by the chemicals decompressing my mind—I believed I bit into my finger accidentally and felt all the pain rush through my body like an immediately growing seed and then it all retracted back, all the pain like a gone splinter and my finger newly healed or never injured. It took time to understand what I could believe and took less time to figure out it didn’t matter, that what you see is what you saw.
