I’ll forget which room in the house I’m in. I’m sitting in the living room but the light and sound are from the back of the house, so I start to think I’m back there. It’s the same house I’m always in. I get here in different ways. Sometimes I get into the house by way of The Castle. It becomes this bureaucratic process of filing claims. Music written for a clarinet with no reed. I can hear it breathe. Then the process becomes a landscape and I leave.