Dividing this minute in half, watching each part grow like a starfish half to a whole the original size of the one but now two, and each of these doubled and multiplied out in a sequence that has no end until one of these moments is entered like a time machine or a movie screen to another dimension:
A white hut thatched with orange fronds. Inside, cinnamon-thighed in that yellow green light, not yet asleep not quite awake, she untangles her hair.
She is in no hurry.
She knows you can make the time,
can divide the time, can expand the time.
You can enter whenever you want to. The moment is yours.