Is there an us? Walking with an unnerved dog, one figure steps through familiar woods. Back in winter a figure glided slowly on skis, followed by a dog in narrow tracks. One heartbeat follows another. If the dog doesn’t get in the way, this is order. What if the dog gets in the way? Gilded, summer will be the dog’s time, a time of no longer inhaling bleach from floors inside the remembered shelter, a time when a dog is not abandoned by a person but abandoned to its own paths and investigations. Those curtailed routes whose logic circles incessantly back, a being, present inside its own presence. The edge defining one desire interrupts the forward motion of another.