I am sitting here, and the voice of a man I hve never met is singing thorugh a stereo that was made somewhere far away. I wonder what that man was thinking while he sang. I wonder who it was who made m stereo. I am sitting on a couch, wheredid IT come from? I sent an email to m friend. she isnt at her computer right now, what is she doing, what is she thinking about. I have mangos on my counter. who grew them? where did they grow them? have they had a good year? would they like to someday go to italy to see the colosseum? do they dream of a new car, or maybe a baby? I am readin a book about the lives of disadvantaged people. About thoughtlessness, and corruption, and power, and hope, and revolt. I am living with a man who has a past. The things around me are in no way a part of me, and it is such an interesting thing to be sitting here surrounded by the whole world. and all the connections and time it took to get us here. to get me here, sitting, with tea in my stomach, and cream and sugar, with music, from an ipod, with light bulbs, and the smell of jasmine, and a guitar, a laptop, some homemade sushi, and a collapsed jenga stack. that's all.