I want to be remixed. I want to be remixed in snow,
in sand, in a mountain stream. I want my life to be remade just like that.
I am the same and yet different, a sense of newness arrives by way of rhythmic sound waves rippling through my ribcage; they're violently pumping my chest as if it contained molten lava.
My lungs are inflating and deflating like those musical contraptions that pump air into a tube and then rapidly collapse it back again—it's the sound of this moment pulsing outwards with each beat, it's hazy at first but soon becomes clear.