I pray for light, I pray to yearn, I pray to desire. Something happened to me, unfortunately. it shouldn't have. I wish something hadn't happened to me - but it did. And now there are tatters. Now there are twelve selves clinking against each other like glasses. A simple operation whirls through the sky like a swarm of helicopters: disfigured, dripping from heaven, black oil. I pray to stay focused. I pray for attention. Communication reigns across CERN, but what is higher than communication? What could one communicate that would not ultimately be shared? Why does everything need to be shared? As I skin my fox, fur tufts into my eyes and my torso goes red.