At exactly where do we know the wing of a bird has missed us, grazed past, dreamt of caress because we have had the same dream, and sympathetic vibrations walkabout, even before this swift flirtation through mango and breadfruit and orchids above, this purpled and confused spangled sheening? For you see, can’t we share, reasonably, references and experiences through language and voicings and the shape of a phrase? While the measurement of these things can evince different results altogether. For a clock can measure, but what of that? What of the results?- thus apposite skepticism. The wayout might diverge, just might. This is why the truth – halt, why skepticism and delight spark together and go. Did you feel that whisper?
That one didn’t do anything at all. Go ask the authorities. Just don’t tell them anything, for some of these conversations might provoke controversy (Then gaol, since we are now a coloniality). Yet they are requisite for an understanding of the pedagogy. Oops. Listen carefully, and you will hear the vibration. The little waves, talking.
An exercised armadillo scampered down the street and plowed into the stucco schoolhouse just as the noonday summer heat maximized and hit the building too. The animal fell panting onto its side, hoping for some sanctuary from its frenetic journeys. It hoped for a rest – a magnolia tree with a lawn? Then the band emerged, wearing colorful costumes.