.
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What you view is how I hear. Exploring questions as possible, in some order... if one which doesn't make sense, or immediate sense. More curious than you in my own ways. What will trip you up, which will you immediately grok, when will you come to your senses... or abandon them in horror, joy, truth, or other ways?
Never a word is uttered, if there may be sound available to you. Written words, for my part. Do the words ever echo in your ears as if, thundered from a great and terrible being, nearly whispered from a kind gentle sage or humble monk, or boldly stated or sung as by an erudite or foolish but bold Thespian?
Not always are answers developed. The question, sometimes, often, is singularly enjoyed. Perhaps, if questions persist, an answer may be groused if not always brought to ground. The former is the case in this instance. The questions suffice to be pleasures. Sharing the fullness of perhaps a few as a gift for your attendance.
You have... no idea.
But I am going to show you.
To see, not always as me. So often, well, far, deep...
I begin to question whether I have a personal existence.
I am him, then I know better. Him, her, and the future... which... is the past.
No zit manufactured in this production. Forbidden, gladly.
If you must have an answer, as my parents? It is... As you wish.
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