081413 #copperhead Transfixed. Here comes my redemption. I push out a little laugh at that. His footfalls crunch percussively into the quiet symphony of my star, my memory, and my motionless earth massage. Coalescing out of an aural plane between sleep and wakefulness, his voice sounds like a kitchen when you're dozing on the couch and there's nowhere in particular you need to go and someone else is doing the cooking and you live there so there's no question: you're staying.