despite being almost mid-september, the heat is still ghastly. from my bedroom window, the one with the cracked glass, i see a car pull out from the parking lot below. in it, a woman, alone and very livid, appears screaming at someone. the scene begs for more narrative, most likely mordant, beyond the window frame. since the long weekend, the guy has only called once. the now empty lot suddenly has become a valid center of entropy. the universe is running down and eventually all motion would cease in this spot of thermic asphalt. in a fairly popular noh play, the man in a priestly garb, he who killed the title character, opens the action when after he glides through the stage bridgeway faces the pine tree painted on the back wall of the stage and then with only a sparse drum accompaniment, turns toward the audience and says “awake to awareness, the world is but a dream.”