The aperture opens to milk, sugar, love, and candy. It’s too much for something that was just a dot not too long ago. You settle for names and numbers. More names, bigger numbers. Collecting them in time for the review you imagine is waiting. The white rabbit appears every time the clock strikes midnight. But you don’t turn into anything, you never turn into anything. The incoherence of your dreams is in inverse proportion to the dishonesty of your reality. Stay a bit longer, until you forget your clock. Until you start telling time by the quality of your gaze. Until you follow the rabbit into the puddle, come back out alive. And there you are, tinier than ever. There is blue as far as the eye can see.