They're the moving particles inside that eternal circle. They sometimes forget exactly what they're doing here, and then their lives remind them. Its subjects are birth and death and familial experience as it runs the gamut from the banal to the miraculous. In all my work, I see language as the means of investigation and time as the organizing principal. Sections of Machine Dreams are framed by lapses of time that float the prose.
Shelter occurs in three days of real time made lapidary and circular.
Memory sometimes offers up the past as a living, dimensional, sensory presence. In that world, there is no death. The sense of having lived it, and a recognition of the enduring strengths they themselves possess.