In healing time, everything is already whole. In human time, nothing feels further from the truth. How do the parts of ourselves who know the truth of how things are care for the parts who seem to have no idea? Hard on the nervous system at times, please dwells in the weeds of mind and the high-tone illusion of control only to break into a spaciousness that was already here—and back again. please is femme and dark, a bit ridiculous and full of unconventional joy, deadly serious like a cosmic joke. And who knew that integrating seemingly disparate parts of ourselves included a rather unexpected Bjork dance party?