“Intoxicated…” by the moment, by the river, by the way show flows like two glasses of chardonnay, I place myself in a mirage of trust. I take daring glances at them as they drink and smoke and dare to take my own headphones off— my final line of defense. I contemplate. I observe. Harshly. I know my eyes are invitations. is this intoxication? Or is this the absense of a battlement, protecting a fear I built myself…