We met in that echoless space which follows the snapping of fingers upon an open plain, in the shock of translucence between the lens and the pupil, between the edges of lightening bolts, and the thickness of earth; alacrity, ferocity, the screaming of color – it was here we planted a flag, around which the rest of life morphed and turned, and we held to its narrow length until our love settled so in movement that love and movement became the same.