Every space is an intersection
of disjointness, or the other way
around. The space makes it a point
to be traveled, a graph or map
where these fingers trace the edges
embedded on a plane. The wall builds
invisibly between us: fluid,
glass, slicing through each one
colliding without scattering shards.
Displacement occurs as force
defines the term remove, shift
until a shape forms. Here we are
always getting lost.
to Kriselle, for arriving without compasses in her journeys