I miss being certain in an unconscious way, Not this certainty of dogma; this certified certainty. Nourished by its devouring of all other, more feeble certainties. I miss the absence of calculation. I miss the seventeen year old who hugged and cried and walked for miles alone, all in one breath. She's not been shed; nor sheltered. I miss being Nice. Air piano for half an hour with a metronomic cat tail shall help. That; or sleep.
