Mind is a tapestry of boot prints, muddy dog paws, clenched roots of Douglas Fir, a rock hauled to a garden at home, several small reservoirs with castellated pumping stations, a clearing to the west through which the city unconsciously peeks. "Like Seoul. It also has a river that cuts it in two."

The future is cast in stories whose skulls have not yet fully closed. In the chaos of umbilical cords that remain unsevered, in the incunabula of its emergent cycles, seeing the potential in every face, visible or invisible, human or not. Still, it would be good to walk this park in early morning, when the oldest of shadows bathes in the mist.

Driving home over a bridge, there is no one chemical exclusive to any one brain region. Rather, the same chemical is distributed over many different regions while each brain region makes and uses many different brain chemicals. It is therefore very hard to say what is most important when considering "Evolution," I say, "Is an analog to a dancing god who is programmed to misstep.