In the first month, you learn to get by on bananas, yogurt and nuts. You don’t go outside so you don’t reek as much as you would have. You play search and find on an iPad: read poetry, write some. It consumes you, and you can survive without yogurt by month two. Your fingers tap tiny flat buttons like TNR, 12, and justify. Months three and four, add a pillow and scroll for something submittable. Memorize every vein in a sea fan framed on the wall, find odd bruises on your body: get bursitis. Month five, reorder topical CBD analgesic. Month six, you decide that buying an adjustable mattress is one of the best decisions you’ve ever made, and you can live on nuts, alone. Month seven while scrolling, you find a man in gloves holding a rehabbed fruit bat. Its translucent wings lit by the light of a van reveals a map of bat veins. The man cradles its torso in his palms and releases.
