Nine

Sometimes only the wind is with her when she exercises on the stairs. She breathes to three mantras. One is easy so she can still have other thoughts.

Hahm. Sah. A mind drum.

One is right in the middle. She is present in her exercise but her mind is still with its simple, soothing syllables.

Ohm. Namah. Shivah.

And the 3rd is two verses of lyrics to a song she is always abnormally moved by. When she considers that a woman not only composed this poetry, but then put it to music with her own arresting vocals, she is overwhelmed. She hears the two verses as music in her head. On occasion, the lyrics are heard in her own speaking voice.

This is how it works

You're young until you're not

You love until you don't

You try until you can't

You laugh until you cry

You cry until you laugh

And everyone must breathe

Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works

You peer inside yourself

You take the things you like

And try to love the things you took

And then you take that love you made

And stick it into some

Someone else's heart

Pumping someone else's blood

And walking arm in arm

You hope it don't get harmed

But even if it does

You'll just do it all again

It takes almost all of her concentration to do this correctly, which is important, otherwise she starts over. She is done with exercising and has soaked through her clothes again, unconsciously. She wonders about physicality and the power of hypnosis.