Fingers glide slowly through the grass, chin resting lightly on the damp earth. My body lies relaxed beside the blanket, eyes fixed on the small scenes unfolding in front of me — in front of everyone. Unable to grasp them, I reflect. I think of status symbols that have lost their value. Think of spinning objects. I try to remember forgotten things, think of time and seemingly smooth surfaces, of fragility. I think of your thoughts.
Slowly, I rise.