I navigate space through sensory responses. I determine the mass of the air around me by the weight it places on my skin. I close my eyes and gauge the pressure between my shoulders and the wall, between my jaw and floor. I keep track of these measurements on the inside of my eyelids. I am always tracking.

My body is tense and incongruous. It is haphazard in its joints and measurements, suspicious appendages, tentacles, all flailing, all unwieldy, all birthed from and teetering on a foundation that will always be too small to be stable, too volatile to hold still.

I am attempting to document the extrasensory experience of an indeterminate body. The surplus of neurons, the excess of taste buds, the phantom limbs, the magnetic fields. How does a delinquent mass of tissue and minerals fit into spaces, wrap around objects, retain experience, shed residue? This investigation is an act of wonder, of awe, of deep, deep desire, and desperation. It is an experiment in perpetual motion, call and response, and lists and lists of unanswerable questions.