Crisply a moment breaks. It sounds like crackling fire. There is someone who stands behind the column that goes all the way to the top. I don’t need to look. I know it’s her. She likes things before they’ve been finally placed. That’s also how she likes her people. She wants to hold on to this breaking moment, precisely when it’s breaking, so that the breaking would resound in the empty halls of her memories. She prefers pictures to videos. Pictures leave her suspended between life and death, hanging upside down after the rush of the jump. I often click pictures for her. She, who loves to go on these adventures. She’s the spirit of being… caught is time… but most dynamic…