Tightly wound the space between thumbs doesn't leave much for thought. Together fingers produce transcriptions of thought(s). It is not clear whether the thoughts are many or one. They flow together, not like one stream into another, but like the reflection of a face in a pool of water. Reverberations spread, invading the space of other faces, it is not clear where the thoughts would be without the face, without the reflection. Next door the reflection of light enlivens the day. Over here the formless shadows wander. Temptation towards definition, delineation. Thoughts do not stop for articles. Particles drifting in air, dust is visible in the evening light. Wind dying down, dust gently settles down, on the surface and reflections are obscured.

----

(I promise not to make this a habit.)

Having decided to take a brief break from chemistry, I decided to post something to the blog. I couldn't think of anything to write about that wouldn't keep me here much too long. Having just completed an automatic writing assignment for French class, I decided to do something similar. Beyond the automatic contraint, I also added a constraint of no proper nouns or pronouns, and sparse use of articles. I don't know why, I've probably been reading too much 20th century French literature.