Verbs cease to exit. Every inhale, exhale is a chore of which my brain struggles to remember. This morning or rather early afternoon I awoke to the sun that seldom shines, bright in my eyes and wished only that I might cover my skylights with thick cloth. Night has become day has become night without my noticing. The only thing I anticipate is a fresh flow of salt ridden streams to dampen my already wet skin. The bastard man, our shrewd landlord, is blackmailing us into bribing him so that he might consider our early departure, sure enough if we stay an early departure he may get anyway.