[ You inhabit a structure that has no place for you.
Great arcs are drawn from common points. A chorused sequence of lines with the property of phonemes that resonate spun out into heartbeats, into a dialect that bears the customary verbs and participles in all their movements through space.
Its proportions are illusory, although you feel its relationships in the actions of lovers and in the columns of great stories. One 'I' for all. Two 'I' for many.
So, waking up as a snail is not unreasonable, The neat division between the ‘content’ and the ‘container’ holds and yet you still try to crawl out of your shell ].