someone lives here on the other side of the valley longing for horses, interstates silicone cathedrals and other streams of lost sensation. in the mirror, real life seems impossible. intense, erotic and spiraling like a swollen river. he peers out, another object in a room, somewhere in borrowed space, leaping and dancing with soft delight. together, we invent caves and caravans, ancient travelers in a midsummer spirit world. the mountains are mercury and the textures of skies appear in untamed chemical splendor. the crossing implies a belief in miracles, spiritual masters, strangers seeking guidance in another lonely hand. this, too, is right now.