What if I just deleted the words as I wrote them? Like mist from white capped waves spraying onto your body, the sensation and the memory of the sensation appearing almost at the same time. What if I just gave up my words to the sound waves, hurtle them out to space or drop them from a ledge on 42nd street in Manhattan, fifty stories up, like a feather? And you tried as long as you could to watch it, but it disappeared against the sun and into the air, because feathers fly away as part of their nature. I don’t see any harm in deleting the words as I write them: But, I don’t do it all the time.