Wed, 20 May

LITTLE RED HEN, INC. She did the grinding. She did the rising. She did the baking. She is holding the loaf now. The others are still here, actually — yes, still here — just a little further back, in the fog, reaching, quite reasonably reaching, from where they are, which is everywhere the light gets soft. You can barely see their hands. That's fine. That's the composition working. She has the bread and the bread has her and the room, the room has dissolved into a series of projected slides — here is the opportunity, here is the market, here is the sky with no floor — and none of this is irrelevant. She is warm. Everything else is the temperature of waiting. She is small and exact as a coin. She is the only thing in this room that happened.