The mailable reality, irregardless of our best efforts, finds a way to seep into unreachable soul crevices like the ashy smoke aromas of a  fire gotten way down deep into the cushions of our everything.  Every step into some new life direction serves as  a marker of the growing distance between the years  once knew and the courses which  lay still before us.  In between the two exists a universe, ever growing.  As the mirror begins to rearrange her depictions and stories, I grow less engaged with our lifelong infatuation and venture now to find new tellings.  And when I stand still long enough…I  can almost feel the world turning around me.  I inhale; realizing  that it is frail as anything and as strong as everything all at once.   I can not right the wrongs of life, solve the pending questions of humankind.  I haven’t a clue what happens to dreams lost, lives past and love ill placed…I am instead, acutely aware that amidst my unknowing… this moment; life space we engulf, feels as significant, somehow,  as the sun is bright and the world seems uncontainable.  And she, in aged wrinkled dreams and plans…sniffs  the cuff of her ashy wrist and breathes deeply in the beautiful scent of her life.