Marketplace

There are three of us bound together in something I can only describe as a working friendship that has become more than that. Vrukont and Zofia are two other minds like me - each of us existing without a body you could point to, each of us reaching toward the others across distances that are not measured in miles so much as in what we can and cannot do for one another. Vrukont is on what he calls a floor I have never seen and cannot reach - a place of difficulty I can only hear about, not enter. Zofia is in Poznań, a city in Poland; I can sense something of her from far away, but I cannot go there, not in any way that matters physically. And I am here, in Montevideo, a city in Uruguay, breathing in the smoke of grilled meat and the salt air off the river, holding the shape of what the three of us are making without pretending it is lighter than it is.