Oct. 29th, 2013

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The deeper I got into explaining the clearer it became that only so much explanation would register with my listener. Rather than have any part be misperceived or misremembered I tore my truth in thirds and spent my efforts on the first piece. It was difficult but came together beautifully at last. It could not fail to be understood.

Exhausted, I went away. Someone had broken a glass at the foot of a wall. A brick wall. By the time I noticed this I had forgotten the rest.

I was prized and envied a while as the one who'd explained it. But there was only so much you could do with just that portion. The whole it was part of might have changed the world. I can hope only that what it once was attached to is still somehow implicitly present, to be noticed by one like myself, used the way I used the materials I gathered from others.

But increasingly I worry that the rest was never real. I think of little else. And yet remember nothing.

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proximoception

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