So much of my ordinary life and identity dissolved, some time ago, into the great ocean of being. In the dissolving, I became a cabinet of curiosities— a strange kaleidoscope of moving parts: magic lantern slide, hand-pressed botanical bleeding seeds, French apothecary formula for the complex interplay of light and dark. Here, in this great ocean, wherever we swim, we reach the shore of Reversal; everything merely the opposite unveiled: word and world threadbare and luminous. Difficult, at best, to remain one person, we are stolen again and again. No landlord, no locks on the doors. Love is a thief moving from room to room, taking everything home.