Sometimes I feel like I have invisible kites clinging to my body. As I speed down the road, they fan out behind me and to the sides. Kites that find cliffs, walls and corners not only possible but also cleansing. As it passes through them, all the dirt clogging their pores is knocked out and left behind. All the solids that hold them are eliminated in a single breath, in a long movement of dizzying loops and large flows. As a child, did you ever run through a forest of yellow leaves and blue shadows with your arms outstretched? Every little branch on your level finds you and explodes your debris. Every high note of a finch or caw of a crow makes the fat on your head sizzle. The oxygen-rich air expels pollution from your lungs in a rush of foggy condensation, and you live for the first time in days. I knew it was over when we heard about the radiation flowing into the ocean. A poison that would survive us millions of years had found its way through our chains, settling on the bottom, rustling with the tides and the swift flight of minnows. Swallowed by whales, slugs and starfish, it remained hidden. Until now. We had reached a milestone and I had missed it. I thought Armageddon was started by a bomb or earthquakes. Perhaps even a rising sea of ​​melted ice caps across the globe. The greenhouse effect? Either way, we are made to fail. This is how I know I lived before; I dream of it. There are white curtains that flap and quiver in the wind. Dawn colors them pastel peach, purple and blue. I could smell the trees and the rain and hear the morning birdsong coming from an open window. Sometimes I sweat in a hot car. Many of us sit in rows on black roads. Stuck in traffic or rush hour, even though no one is rushing... middle of paper ... of course the loud whistling in the room reminds me of my dreams. I despise myself as much as that damn cat. It's a night of screaming, moaning and raw hatred. This worthless mutant child threatens my Helen and makes me an accomplice even before she is born. Then the child is there, red and wrinkled, thin but strong. At first she writhes and screams, then falls silent. Her chin quivers with the cold as I wash her. It is perfect, no anomalies. Her nails are seed beads. I wrap her in our softest blanket and place her on Helen's still chest. With a groan, the baby opens swollen blue eyes and looks at me. The look is heavy with understanding. It creates fine lines in my teeth and weakens the bones in my feet. Together we shed the blood of our beloved. Such a thing is not forgotten. I touch his cheek with my finger and give him my old name.