“What did you do?” Mirr asked. And this was the perfect picture to accompany that question. Because if you hadn’t known mirr, nor sheep, you would not have recognized him.


The same way, while we wrote what he asked, we felt utterly inadequate in getting his intention across. Because we lacked the intonation. We could have added an extra question mark for you to suspect him being curious. But somesheep might as well take that punctuation as mirr being nosy. Big difference. And if we used an exclamation point mirr perhaps was thought to be accusatory in his question. Shouting even! We could have chosen to write something in bold to give that extra attention, but even then again.. attention says nothing about intention.


So again mirr asked, what did you do?


Again we were stuck in answering. Did he ask us because he really didn’t know the answer and wanted to fill his own brain with new information? Or was it something he wanted us to hear ourselves say out loud, you know.. that trick that therapists can pull on you, this pretending-to-not-know stance. And in his case, a not-look stance..


“What did you do..” mirr asked while facing us.


It’s the same four words as ‘how are you doing’. The weirdest question ever. How are we doing? Mentally you mean? Money wise? Or how safe we feel after our recent break in? Or refering to the break down two weeks before? Or the break up from way back? Or the break through from last year? Or do you mean how we are doing spiritually? Emotionally? With regards to the job? The trip? The neighborhood? And even if you can specify a topic, how should we answer? On a scale from what to what? Zero to ten? Meaning sucky to amazing? What feeling would classify for the answer ‘good’?

“How do you feel,” mirr asked. “Be honest.”


We feel like the title of a book to be honest.


If a book is good then the title will never be mentioned in it, but it’s the perfect summary for what you just digested inwards.. in words. The same way we didn’t feel like ‘having a panic attack’. We just felt like we got three hot potatoes, large, hot, shoved down our throats and that two things happened. First they were stuck and obstructed our breathing canal and therefore breathing. And second they were hot, giving us this feeling of being stuck in time, for usually hot things -like emotions- will eventually cool off. These potatoes didn’t. Hot and stuck. And while we were getting honest, Mirr went in for the comfort.


“And the book?” Mirr asked.


Well, a good book should have a title that transcents the pages. The same as meeting another soul. What you are left with after reading is the title. What you are left with after meeting is a feeling.


We couldn’t quite remember all the words in the book, nor the conversations with that soul. We just knew that he book existed. We knew what we were left with. And the best souls leave you wordless, for so much goes to shit when you try to verbalize what’s inside of you. Because words are just words, you know.. And while we calmed down a bit, mirr started drawing.