Someone at the party kept yelling my name, and I kept turning to meet the voice, but the voice kept receding, and receding, always seeming to be in a corner just behind my ear, behind a cluster of laughing people here or there. The voice was playful at first, and empty, but it soon took on an insistence and urgency such that I could not help but start to imagine the voice was that of a teacher, or mother or father, or some other figure of authority calling me home. I went in the backyard and stood next to the pool, and the voice stopped. Water, as we know, has that kind of dampening effect on nonverbal communications.

Francis Waarm
04 30 22