1. A little black sparrow flew in frightened circles in front of the alcove this morning.

2. It's been 4 weeks since he last saw the barber and now the hairs, golden and brown, are curling around his temples and along his forehead. 

3. The way his hands move in front of him when he beings to talk. It's one of the reasons I love him: His passion is never as quiet and unassuming as mine. 

4. What is it? That sound of blade against wood? Rhythmic thuds.

5. A reflection of myself: shoulders curved too far forward and a neck bent to an unnatural degree. I am leaning into myself. Or am I curling away from someone or something?

6. The angles of light in this house and the way we walk in and out of the shadows.

7. There are not enough trees on our property to break up the wind and the small green leaves of the pepper plant whip back and forth. 

8. Tenderness in the breast. First the left and now the right, and how I think about the cancer in my grandmother and my aunt and how I try to always convince myself that this tenderness is nothing.

9. Cold white sheets.

10. Fireworks boom in the distance.