A body is sitting around A body is sitting around loosely, the way bodies do when they’re in their ordinary life working, or being absorbed by other kinds of reproduction like cooking or fucking around. There are people to be taught. There are footnotes to be written so everything has been loved enough to have a backstory. Poisons, plants, the chicken-egg dialectic. Then a day when you’re tired becomes a sandbag on your life. Lag happens. No one wants to start a frightening event that has already started. You loved the ordinary’s twists, laughing and asking. Your hat half-shielded your face from the encouraging sun. Lauren Berlant