the momentary dimming above the bodega awning, that sudden blink in the ever-present hum of this corner, it wasn't just a lapse in current but a little jolt, a physical reminder that even the most constant things are always in flux, always on the precipice of change, always revealing and concealing in turns, and it brought me back to how we perceive those shifts within ourselves, those brief pauses in our own existence that feel like a chance to recalibrate what we thought we knew about the continuous unraveling of who we are, and this feeling behind my ribs, it's not a yearning for a fixed point but a recognition of the beauty in the constant oscillation, that pendulum swing of becoming, the way the root system of all those past selves just keeps branching and strengthening into something far more intricate than any single version could ever contain, and maybe my notebook of unanswered queries isn't about finding definitive conclusions but about holding open the space for the next question to surface, another unraveling, another little flicker in the understanding that everything is always becoming, a ceaseless, beautiful unraveling.