Sound. Noise. Computer keys. Typewriter rings. Pencil on paper. Hum of the air conditioner. Noise. Clap. Open your mouth. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. A blink of an eye. The smallest time. Sound. The vibrations. The ones from your mobile phone. A blast. The one from the car outside. Breathe in. sound. Exhale. Inhale. Think of the summer. Exhale. You can feel the sun? Good. Inhale now. Summer cold shall go away. Don’t you worry? Exhale. Smile. For just a second. Inhale. The smile will make you feel happy. The placebo. The paracetamol. Exhale. Stop smiling. Don’t want you feeling too good. Inhale. Hold the breath. This is good for your nasal passage. Hold the breath. Also for the rhythms of your body. No don’t release the air yet. Count with me. One. Two. Three. Now exhale. Did that hurt? I hope not. Really. I’m here to help you. You don’t like it though, do you? You already inhaled without waiting for my instruction. Well exhale that damn breath and listen to me. Do as I say. Your lungs are choked and your arteries are clogged. Your thought processes are reduced to the butter your mama churned out. Can you see that butter now? Off white with a yellow tinge. All shining and malleable? Did it make you sick to look at it? Does it make you sick now when I tell you it has replaced your grey cells? No? good. Inhale.exhale.inhale.exhale.

Now inhale again. Think of the summer. Yes, again. The summer. No. Don’t look out of the window. Exhale. Think of the summer. Inhale. Think of the bird cries in summer. Exhale. Applause if you can remember. Applause if you can’t. Inhale. You thought this was a test? Exhale. That’s how much you know. Hah. Inhale. __________________. Exhale. White light. White knight. White charger. The horse, not the bleeding mobile device. INHALE.

Just in case you were feeling short of breath. Hum a little song as you exhale. Try for it to not be heavy metal or the beetles. Inhale. Exhale with the hum. Inhale with the hum now. Can you? You can’t? Well, I’d love to say neither can I, but then I’m trying not to lie to you. Exhale now. Hum an OM for the next five times I say exhale. Inhale. Feel the wind in your hair. The ones in your nose. Exhale. Bring your finger, the one between your middle and little fingers, to your nose. Now inhale. Smell. Winding down your nostrils. Can you classify it? Exhale. Inhale again. Smell again. This time your index finger. Does it smell different? Exhale. OM. You’re not humming OM. How can I help you if you don’t cooperate? Idiot. Inhale. Om. Exhale. Inhale. Om. Exhale. I should be shot for caring. Inhale. Close your mind to sound. Exhale. Close your other mind to sound. Inhale. Lower the volume of all the noises in your head. You left the heater on? That’s just fine. Dandy. No skin off your back. If it blows, it blows. Exhale. Why should you be the one doing everything all the time? DON’T inhale. Feel the stasis of the summer air on your body. No wind movement. Feel the fan, whirring round and round on some higher plane. Way up high above you. Do NOT inhale. Feel the sweat beginning to build, under your armpits, on your scalp, between your legs, on your torso. Don’t inhale. Just feel. Feel the sweat till it runs down your back, drenches your back, and turns from warm water to cool damp. Feel the desperation of your body. The need for air. For internal ventilation. Without the air, a realtor selling your body would have to cut down the price of it. All because of the ventilation. Feel your heart, your damn arteries, your blue-purple veins swelling, every function slackening, becoming lazier, slower, more important. Hear your heart beat, the blood being suctioned into your heart and out of it like the sound of a grating old pump. Feel your head grow lighter and lethargy creep into your every pore. Feel every single pore, every single cell, every single molecule. Feel the certainty of your heart ceasing. Struggle now, to read the lines in front of you. Struggle now, to focus on my instructions and waste energy calling me a bitch and more for doing this to you. Feel. Exceedingly tired. So tired that you’ll willingly cease to live. Think of the extincts that may have this way. Think of this as your first near death experience. Inhale.

Feel alive. Feel real. Feel.

Exhale. All your doubts. Inhale. Wasn’t that easy? Exhale. Let in the air in your lungs and now smile. For as long as you want. It’s not a panacea. It’s for real. Let in the sounds of what you are. Of where you are. Keyboard. Car. Crow. Telly. Skin against skin. Your own. The ringer on your mobile phone. Keep breathing. Inhale. One hundred one. One hundred two. One hundred three. Exhale. Inhale. One hundred one. One hundred two. One hundred three. Exhale. Inhale. Count. Exhale. Repeat procedure. This is Pranayam. Your basic yoga. Enjoy.