you love drinking. and coffee, you drink coffee, now. and you drive. and you dream about sex. and you roll secrets around your mind in quiet evening transit. and you think about your responsibilities. and you imagine the world, this impossibly large thing that could swallow you whole, as a marble that you can spin between your fingers. a thing you can look at and manipulate. a thing that you can expand slowly, until it threatens to cut past you, and still you see it all.