Dreams of getting lost that come from stories of getting lost. Or a book, a pair of scissors, the small jar of chillies always kept in its particular place, only to find it's disappeared when you need it. Where did you park the car, how did you get into an elevator headed toward the city? What's a shadow but a crooked tooth pressing from behind one that tries to stand as straight as it can? When catching sight of yourself in the mirror, the eyes are the only ones still awake, begging for the grace to be reunited with the rest of the unmasked face.