Why should you always demand that things make complete sense? There are times your own life makes you a fiction. Are you a fisherman's daughter, a taxman's brother, the long- lost soldier who's left again for another war? Though cicada shells fall on the porch steps, their chorus keeps ghosting in the trees. You touch the scars left by old wire fencing on your arm, then the folds under your eyes. An epidemic of sleeplessness is still at large in the world. If floorboards creak perhaps it's only because the house has grown quiet in order to hear you.