All my memories before now feel laminated, shot through an overhead projector across lecture hall. As in: leading me to force air through my mouth and whisper to myself nothing mattered until now. This while laying in bed. I don’t believe these words, they’re someone else’s romantic. But the phrase parrots a scent of split with the before times which seems to leave those before times with less purchase in the present so the present is coming through as thicker memory now. Now is thick as the gluon of the neonate’s mother’s mucous plug come undone.