I put the bread in the toaster. I put the toaster in the yard. I held my hand over your head and cured you of all of it, everything. But I didn’t think that one would work. We last spoke when my children came home, excited to share with us what they had learned at school: the man who invented Australian Rules Football once pooped for ten meters. You scoffed. But I believe them. I believe that there was a moment, in 1858, where an endless shit seemed possible – a whole crowd on the brink of seeing the infinite.