an avalanche started by a tiny pebble, dropping off a boulder, which makes just enough sound, which makes the snow come crashing down, the butterfly flapping wings creating enough disturbances, enough airflow to somewhere and sometime and somehow to create a thunderstorm halfway around the world. sliding doors, the mere misstep on the public transit system, and suddenly, quite suddenly, everything is tipsy turvy upside downy, of course open eyes might have something to do with it, blue gray, like steel and graphite, reflections and temptations, and things better left unsaid, insider voices, illegal trade acts for the private debate in my head, to stop one train of thought from overrunning the station, and left with nought to wear.