I’m listening to the fountain plash, watching the hornbeams tussle with the breeze, feeling time melt into birdsong, and then the drone of a plane crossing overhead. I’m staring at middle distance and a shadow moving on the wall. The sun moves imperceptibly though then I remember it really doesn’t move at all. Life is the dream I’m having in the middle of the day. It won’t always be like this, all the furniture motionless. Things don’t move unless I move them. My linen shirt hangs straight down from a single dresser knob. Nothing stands still.