She was in deep need of a magical story. One that could move her mind from its current fixation on all of the leaks and holes and drafts. Drafts of old words and religious recipes settled into some kind of energetic girdling of her solar plexus. She leaked kindness toward herself. It leaked onto the bugs in her house that she caught and let out the window. She wanted to be let out the window.
She was indeed wishdrawn. When this happened, her own star had difficulty reaching her. In the clear and now, there was of course, no separation. Never had been, and knowing this only made the current collapsing time more insulting. She was upset. She had a headache. She didn’t know what to do. She took responsibility for this. No, that is not right - she blamed herself.
The faucets, fountains, mists and rivers – the lakes and the secret territories all seemed to drain right through the Whole. That is, the hole inside the Whole. When it was working, that word meant “something that is everything shows that nothing is inside it.” But for now, the vast somethings implied were simply missing, and everything drained right through the leftover hole.