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This brief page asks whether walking and dreaming ever reveal that every step is taken between two things rather than fully inside one world.

Its strength is its simplicity. The line feels like a distilled statement of the manuscript's constant in-betweenness.

A spare five-line question that distills the manuscript's recurring sense of in-betweenness into a single image of walking. The parallel openings 'As you walked / As you dreamed' fold movement and reverie together, then the poem asks whether 'your steps / were between two things' - making ambiguity a matter of gait, something felt underfoot rather than reasoned. Its quietness and direct second-person address give it the feel of an aside that names the whole book's condition: never fully inside one world, always stepping across a gap.