'advice from a caterpillar'

It feels like I'm speaking another language. Every interaction feels awkward and obtuse and confusing. Every word I say and hear has to be stripped of its meaning and contemplated.

She's the only person who understands the words I speak. She too is stuck in a whirl of change and is in between two worlds. She chased her rabbit down the bunny hole and landed in a world where everything is topsy turvy.

My head is in Chicago, but my heart is in Edmonton.

Having been lost for a long time, spending months and years in the abyss of limbo, wondering where to go next, what to do next, it is no strange surprise that being found is just as alarming. At least being lost was familiar, being found and stuck is worse.

He doesn't know this, but the first time he made the cold hard knot of hate that was my heart ooze hopefully was from a sentiment contained in a caption of the view from his balcony. I don't remember if his feet were in the picture, characteristically crossed at the ankles and propped up. I don't remember which portion of his view it showed, most likely the river valley and all the trees along it, because all I remember thinking is, my gosh, I would love to be there.

And the caption, corny, but sweet, went something like, looking for someone to share this with. A plaintive wail thrown into the dark night; a message in a bottle that I found and treasured. I never imagined I would get to see it for myself, I never thought I would prop my feet on the railing alongside his, I never considered something that seemed so far could be reached.

So to go there and be there again and spend time being found makes everything here feel like an obstacle. Even myself.

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.'Who are you?' said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, 'I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'

'What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. 'Explain yourself!'

'I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, 'because I'm not myself, you see.'

'I don't see,' said the Caterpillar.

'I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, 'for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.'