by Danielle Rose Walter Randlehoff Epistle on Water The point is to make distance between yourself and everything you desire but I am so full of leaking. Around me there are facts that are flowing like a faucet: How we are now in a small cave not dissimilar to bread baking, how the monk’s cell is carved from a tall rock-face that reminds me of my father. How I am traveling alone. How far I am from my home. The Tour Guide sneezes each time he tries to pronounce the word solitu