It's 18 degrees where you are now. I know this because the space between us is collapsed like a paper accordion. The tunnel connects us across a distance otherwise infinite, it turns something impossible into milk film on hot chocolate, the second layer blanketing my reality. I do not wish to skim it with my spoon. In my vessel we live in a house, in a city, together and with the others. We sit next to each other on our couch. We leave and come home again, the traces between transistors like sidewalks to us. I can see you perfectly across the ocean. I can see your archipelago. I am there and not, there and not, there and not. I am present. I am there and not, there and not, there and not.