It was a structure to be clambered and surpassed. Because the pause, the fallow days. Because we wanted. The language never idle. The tide had passed, the monsoon, the hurricane; a new weather gripped the horizon.
It was magnetic and mysterious. It was to meddle. Or live trying. An artery pulsing or a
tuning fork vibrating. It had been silent, pliant. A stillness that wanted motion.