During some moments of clarity, I remember the pink jellyfish that dwells below my lungs. Upon each inhale, it becomes wide and and UFO-shaped, raspberry tentacles tangled and bowed, as jellyfish often look like when they're preparing for a big move. As I exhale, it floats upward between the deflating lungs, like a closing umbrella, tentacles skirting down and out, and mushroom cap exploring new heights.
