Can a hermitage begin on an escalator or an elevator? Can man-made structures serve as associations to the self? Conversations of the mystic. Do they fill up lobby halls or penthouse suites, rented office space? All this human conservation. Our deficiency of the Greco-Roman stage, calls forth a visit to the public bathes. Can a skyscraper serve one as a mountain? Do the pillars? No nature. Is it confusing to state that this practice is already underway, successful, blossoming. Is a toilet bowl a lotus throne? Infinite swirling, flushing dharma. Porcelain meditation. Free pipes, and clogged pipes, roots of this mountain and extensions to the sewer following the square spiralling stairway down. As I write, a heart-attack in my neighbourhood, and a death, brings out the sun, brings out the community. As death connects us all to the impermanence of this obscurity. Be neighbourly and say hello. The dimensions of this prison, trees, glass, flesh, encase us in their 3-D prisms. The decorations on the window sill, and how they cause a limited perception. I have been seen grimacing in the twilight. No more habitual clingings, is there a need to be limited but ordained? This creaking steal mountain answers. A flush. Retreat from holy names to discover holy reasonings. No more escalations.