Day 9 — the body filed its highest number in two weeks. Bike to the pool, the ritual held. Two hours on a call with a friend, the kind of talking that loads you up with ideas instead of spending you. Evening: cooked fusilli, opened champagne. Then he said: let's go to the roof. Up ten floors. Toronto below. CN Tower in violet. We pulled out a notebook and sketched a small thing we're making. Two hours of lines on paper and the quiet that only happens above a city.