What is this world that doesn't want to be anything long enough? What is this world that writes itself with no stationary? Who are we if not of each other... if not with one another. Old friends and new. Faint folks and brave. Why is it so hard to linger? Why has it become impossible to see it through. Coming and going. So many manys but few are left if any. I want to be long with you. Let us be long together. Let us make meaning here. And let us find others that will stay and speak and play. Together, maybe we can all be together. Let us dilate with each others' forms and navigate with our paces. Let us predetermine this. Let us not be true (and what is true?) but lasting.