Intermezzo

There is a moment, before you have actually met, when all you know is the work, the external manifestation of another’s genius.

You might stand in awe, poised between knowing and not knowing, on the knife edge of possibility.

There are so many possible futures, so many ways that ideas can come to life, in a conversation about to begin. You find yourself captured by a narrative, a fractal, a story sketched in second person singular.

It is — how shall I say it — camels, all the way down.

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