I woke at midnight in another country, the sun nodding at the horizon. I walked through the town, a series of gridded streets that looked like those in a place where I had once lived, perhaps they were in fact one and the same, since it was true that though not everything was possible, an infinite number of possibilities nevertheless existed, nothing was settled. Time moved like a pair of frog’s legs twitched with electrified scissors, not a presence or an absence, but one felt it just the same. What forces were driving me then? I walked to the quayside, the pale blue sky reflected in the water, the buildings bordering the river reflected in the water, shivering in the breeze. The sun did not rise for it had not set but it stretched itself over and above the city. She is under this same sky, the very same sky. This sense of kin.