I didn't wipe the chair before sitting down on it. I didn't sit down before opening that book, and before sitting down I shut it close. I can afford to reading it without breaking it into pieces, too much risk. The only possible way is to leave it within my reach, and peep into a small morsel from time to time. That is the plan. But this morning, things are slow, a rare chance that things can go slow. It's not a break, but I feel my mind unoccupied, untethered, allowed to flow and float away anywhere it desires. No technical terms (which I like), no respecting any logic... it's like putting away something away a while just for picking it up again to be able to appreciate more. I've felt relieved since I released the words the other say, or released something with my words, or perhaps released something in my words. Something you have to say, something you may never have a chance to say, something you should have said but there was no way for you to be capable to realize yourself... I've learned that lesson so well, the permanent question mark with a sign I don't have to remember, because it won't go away.