BY 张妍/YAN ZHANG

To: Sylvia Plath

Subject: Re: I Am Vertical

The world seems to be completely still, lingering, swooning in this
moment. The low hum of the video clip seeps through the auditory
meatus, saturating my brain to a sedated subconsciousness. Overhead,
the AC sprays cool air, nudging on my forearms. The cicadas' low ringing
stirred with the sound of rubber tires on asphalt road, stretching through
the neighborhood, past the window. At my ear. My walls drone silently,
pumping an arrhythmia or two. Lying down puts things into perspective
somehow. Everything's clearer, in more detail. Present. Mattress grunting
under my movement, dew lifting-over one leave to the next before finally
giving in (soaking) into slightly parted lips of earth. The sound of
stillness, movement;