Photo Source: Unsplash Drowning  It is not a hum but the footsteps of a woman leaving the room barefoot. What if drowning was a blessing, even now, as the night sky mouths a prayer only bodies of water can hear. Tiny voices fill pregnant air, ears hearing, mouths unheard. Paw prints on the concrete more permanent than the search for human connection. On our walk back to my apartment, dust displacing moonlight, light displacing shadows, as if the night sky is opening up, even now, drowning...