Can you hear me?
Are you there?
Under my blanket I hear lower frequencies, compressed sound waves.
I don’t remember a day when I wasn’t waiting to take shape, to have a shape that was legible and independent with meaning. My body relies on memorization. Without sight and barely any sound my feet are my memory. My memory steps one foot at a time. I listen, I learn, and commit no crime.
I’m going to take off my shoes…
It’s my home.
I don’t wear shoes in my home.