On a Hot Summer Day, I Suddenly Got Up to Return My Friend's Basketball, After Not Returning It for More Than Ten Years. I Don't Know Why I Had to Do It. I Was Flooded with Memories. One Was Especially Blurry, the One Where I Pick Up That Basketball. I Was Alone in My Friend's Garage, the Repetitive Sound of Filtered Kickdrums Coming from Inside the House. The Garage Door Was Open. I Try to Put the Ball Back in the Cardboard Box As the Garage Door Closes. Darkness. A Voice Whispers: I Smell Your Sound I Eat Your Colors.