The curtains, a dense and heavy crimson velvet, are pulling at the elaborate golden curtain rod. I dream these curtains wrap me up and conceal me from the sickly and infectious urban environment. I want them to cocoon me. They swallow me up and suspend my my body from the ceiling. Green. Red. Foil. Apple. Sensations of celebration. A woodsy breeze blows the fallen leaves. I watch him walk down the main street. Tither and slither. Midnight music. I wait for the sweet ecstasy of spring and its sweet dewy sunrise to kiss my snowy skin. Ashes. She gazed at me. I enter a third dimension. Mouth movement. Arm-hand movement. Structure. De-structure. process. divide.