The Walrus - - CONTENTS - By Suzan­nah Showler

Glass on glass, shot drops into pint, and there it is: at­mo­spheric storm on some

outer planet, or what was called one, could still be should we choose to clas­sify

bod­ies by what we know about re­coil. Some er­rors are just a way of be­ing

right. No mat­ter the parts, we are in a sys­tem. I’m talking to a scholar who says

she stud­ies what it means to in­tend to do some­thing. I know a bit about this, how

the fu­ture is a con­di­tion we live with now. Check­list of symp­toms in my wal­let:

in­abil­ity to tun­nel vi­sion, phan­tom carpal tun­nel, con­jec­tural carpe diem.

I ask whether any­thing but a feel­ing could be more than a feel­ing. She says: No

re­grets for what you haven’t seen. Says: Be the ghost you want to see in the ma­chine.

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