494 intervals. But it doesn’t really transform much. Mostly, I just leave them alone. But all the feelings are still there. The whole range of them. Unfinished, undeserved and unexplained. Yeah, everyone’s got a role in their own misfortunes. But sometimes digging it out isn’t as easy as it sounds in the description. The simple, basic fact of it isn’t available. She’s a smoke pattern that dissolves when I look in her direction. But everpresent — in the peripheries.