2.
I’m looking out the window at other windows. Though the pane masquerades as
transparent I know it is impenetrable just as too great a show of frankness
gives you a mere paper draft on revelations. As if words were passports, or
arrows that point to the application we might make of them without considering
the difference of biography and life. Still, depth of field allows the mind to
drift beyond its negative pole to sun catching on a maple leaf already red in
August, already thinner, more translucent, preparing to strip off all that
separates it from its smooth skeleton. Beautiful, flamboyant phrase that trails
off without predicate, intending disappearance by approaching it, a toss in the
air.
(Waldrop, Rosmarie, 'Lawn of Excluded Middle'}
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