Page 1

Heel.
Toe.
Heel.
Toe.
Heel, toe.  Heel, toe.
Each step a rhythm.  Each step a unity.  Each step an entry, exit and datum.
Steps become motion and motion direction. Direction begets sound and through this new crack a will emerges.  An uncertain will.  Uncertain if it is coming or going but there is rhythm, motion, direction and sound to be acted upon and that is something.  Something.
Now the presence of others.  Other steps.  Other rhythms.  All of them walking.  Will walking.  A crowd moving.  Will waking.
Vision and smell arrive together, a intersection of sensation that slams awareness into her forebrain.  She keeps walking.  She is thirsty.  There is a smear of input and then a young brown skinned girl of perhaps eight years is handing her a cup of water.  She takes it.
The girl is probably talking.  Lips are moving but instead of hearing sounds, she sees letters falling from mouth to ground.  She drops the cup and it shatters.  The young girl’s eyebrows smash together and she might be shouting.  Probably.
There is a push.  Some people gather.  Then the rhythm of footsteps sweeps to the foreground again, this time as a run.  This run brings feelings.  They are difficult to name.  Perhaps there is only one feeling tinted with shades of other feelings.  The feeling pushes her to run further and faster, delivering her finally to a seated position.