You know how when you arrive in a place you aren't from and it's either raining or there's torrents of sunlight, and the people that greet you say Oh you've brought the { } weather with you! And of course you're not the author of such changes in the atmosphere, only of the particular grammar of the narrative you're simmering in at any given moment. Teacup clouds swirl or settle and you don't remember if you're supposed to read the message before or after you drink the liquid. One morning you wake up thinking beauty beauty beauty or { } while offering a plate of inelegant flesh to the mirror. Is it true that exiles and refugees are more tender in the gut? You only know the bed you were shown since your arrival. Good utility. Working toilet. View of parking lot.