So I see you've met Pan of the subtropics

You've put on your shoes, haven't you, but you've forgotten the laces, and to step means to stumble or to leave your rubber-soled foundation in the tall grass. You are sad, I can tell the way you look forward into the horizon of cypress trees edging the clearing, because it is as if you are looking behind you. It's okay to be sad because swamps have the unique quality of swallowing, buzzing, swirling, engulfing, so that you forget there was ever such a place as not a swamp. By this I mean that to be engulfed is indistinguishable from engulfing, this is what lovers do, buzz and swallow and become indistinguishable, and also I mean to say that swirling carries with it the inertia of a ballerina, for instance, or the spotlight which she orbits. This is heliocentric and this is inevitably what you will think as the sun which you orbit casts its light on your cheeks, and you are the only one in your private swampy world, with no one to give yourself to but the wet earth. It has already removed your laceless shoes, and maybe this is the first step of lovemaking, so you must make love, you must engulf and be engulfed in the tall grass, to the thunderous applause of crickets.