“Jolts” are another good word for them that aren’t entirely accurate. Those shocks of fuschia and yellow that grip me, putting every pore on needles and pins, making the air electric, sucking all sound into one all consuming sine wave . It’s horrible. It’s agitating. My body jerks and writhes trying to shake these attacks off. Sometimes I think only water will disperse them. Sometimes I think only dirt and nighttime will bury them.