Today in the meeting I was really letting things wander. My boss said she had to sit at the far edge of the long double table because she couldn’t see the notes on her screen in the light, midday light blaring silently in the windows tucked up near the ceiling of the meeting room, casting a really funny pallor on the decor which is intentionally dark, dark wood, dark stains, aging portraits of wild turkey and pheasant and similar fowl stuffed in corners, empty cages, beakers and vials and strange crinkled paper shapes draped with gauze, it’s a strange room, No Smoking, the window says laughably. The light burning through everything I thought I could see shades of everyone’s past lives, past permutations of their energy or carbon or who knows what, and I breath in and out and I felt I could feel the life force flowing through each of us, where it entwined, where it separated, this big gelatinous etheric mass stuffed into each of us at odd little angles but coming from some bloated hand at the root somewhere, some strange tributarial river. I often see myself as separate from people now, see them as primates, imagine their skeletons and see Neolithic tribes running with flared nostrils and bared teeth across steppes with spears, hunting and fucking other tribes with slight genetic variances, rotting and fossilizing in swamps. I see soft gray brains and imagine winking subtle energy patterns nudging neurons into place along invisible maps. And here are all these people and me too, improbably perched on these weird legs and wobbling around and slumping in these chairs that hurt, wishing I was at yoga, everyone wishing they were somewhere else, everyone of them trusting this fevered dream vision life a little more or a little less or a little differently than the next, seeing it as something different, seeing the work meeting as something different. I don’t know what I see it is. Just staring back out into that light through the window.