Monotony is the spinach in my teeth, the aquantaince I grin at, the spinach still lodged inside my itchy gums. It is as beautiful as the breath in winter, ice on tongues, and cough syrup. You are the needle, the transfusion, the plain vanilla yogurt. I am the tooth brush, the shower, the bran flakes. Let us suffer in loneliness side by side—let us be joyful alone and surrounded by only salt water and seaweed.