Space

Life moves aerially time and space: how much for each. But, as a new resident of Cincinnati, the aerial is useless. Roads merge, disappear, reappear, go this and that and under and over and etc.

So, the periplus norm. As a house, as positioning from the bedroom to the bathroom in the middle of the night, the body working to track the walls and possible glasses of water on the floor.

Neighborhood navigation. On garbage days everyone puts their piles on the sidewalk. On every other day, garbage accumulates on the sidewalk, in yards, in the street, seems to penetrate the air. Then it rains. Then the flies. Then.

The emotional navigation of strangers most difficult because of the strangeness. Some cities: hello. Some: nothing. Here: a metaphysical question of which, which time, at what space.

A city penetrates and remodel one’s internal space.

Reflection in the stranger: hello, garbage, compact warm breathing thing.

Here the periplus breaks down. Signs fool, appear at the last minute, don’t exist. To get somewhere takes reconnaissance. The person fragments into a surprise. The plot and general narrative of the everyday epic becomes a matter of fragmenting enough to get around.

And the purpose of being. How. To subdue navigation for the many aspects of getting to class (to teach, to learn). Within safe roads of paths to teach to learn, the ever navigation of: fraud. To try and not fraud. To unfraud the stranger.

Ah.