I note it's been four months since last post, vulnerable to the habits of mind this log's format encourages. Who agreed me that time's accumulated measures could be subtracted so confidently, without a glance anywhere? An unmeasuring glance it must be, and tells without measure, by light, that it's been far longer from here to anywhere I've been before.

have I made way-of-looking explicit enough here before now, I'll read to remind myself, but later. Sure to have made it explicit differently than this: at Banshee's house now, and for the week, looking at her bookshelf in a new way-- vague familiarity with the family to which I'd say the new understanding belongs that I'd called to myself 'black air'. [the idea 'black air' itself has a life and history with turnings to be uncovered some other day. I only note here it's changed since I first said it to myself maybe 15 years ago

 (naming so long a duration that I can't even make the kinds of mistakes that get me complaining about 'four months'. other mistakes surely)]

books looking like what they were. masses; not sheaves, but not surfaces(covers). and also temporary missives. Katie and Lyal who live here, might see them this way always. for me it's a lesson

gazes not correlated to one another or body movements. not used to cognize space. ten hundred glances only!

for friendliness, a little nice thing about 'four months': being of different lengths, months, when collected, carry tolerances with them, without being told. a house for thinking