How are you?

I feel a sickness arise and repel the twisting vision so as not to lose control. Everything is fine. Fine. Middling and calm like a car at the stop light – engine out of gear but still ticking over. I swallow what used to be my pride, but has since been replaced by something far more sinister. Gulping it down to the pit of my stomach. All this talk of organic flesh and blood, earth wood stone and fire, as though the fact that it all came first makes it all superior to the cold steel and circuit board world that centres us every single day. Some nostalgic comforter – older is better - I can sleep now. It is a facade. Like the small white tips of a wave fizzing away into a million million grains of sand. A weakly silent lie to keep us believing we are in the middle of something relevant. I’m fine. Fine. How are you?