The pool.

It is very possible that she will experience a creative breakthrough in the very same moment that she concedes to her own wavering belief that everything is going to come to an end.

It will all fall apart, because it wasn’t put together right in the first place, is what she thinks.

What would it look like if it fell apart?

What will the crash sound like?

She can envision the pieces, scattered and away from one another — all the parts of this wise and precious thing.

All the parts of her.

She begins to recall how she began putting it together. She starts to think about the last piece.

What was she doing with the last piece, and what about the piece just before that?

She’s in reverse.

Submerged.

Thinking, in a backward motion.

Swimming in a clear pool of memories — each one passing by an elegant, synchronized stroke.

She starts to think about how she put it together by taking it all apart.

She remembers how she built this beautiful thing and why she once believed in it so ferociously.

She remembers what it feels like to dream about something and then somehow, extract the very essence of that dream and transform it into an idea — a process that is perfectly unseeable and entirely energetic.

It is very possible that you will experience a creative breakthrough in the very same moment that you concede to your own wavering belief that everything is going to come to an end.