We created space. To how much each requires space, is it dependent or universal, this is the question not to be answered at this time, on this day of days…on The Status of Things. Larry packs his socks. He folds them first in halves & presses them with an aged right hand. The deep blue worms just beneath his thinning skin move to the adjustments of pressure along the ends & folds of his socks. As he quietly packs them. And pauses, to stare off. He reengages the socks. He pauses to stare off. And just like this Larry spent his morning, all two hours before, “I must leave soon. I am leaving…I must go soon, I must go to work.” His teeth, now unbrushed, to be brushed soon. Cleaned for future stains. Breath cleared. Disheveled describes his hair. Lost is his demeanor. We find him at the intersection of intense presence & abstract absence. He comes forth & leaves just the same. He is here but then he is not. This is The Status of Things for Larry. Weeks ago he left the hair of his head behind, to be flushed–& it was–and it will clog a future resident’s drain. He is the ascending part of a rollercoaster; he is the descending part of a rollercoaster.