/lit/ - Literature

Figured I'd pop in as a nod to a place I don't frequent much anymore. I mean I didn't frequent it much in the past. What's less than frequent but more than occasionally. Sometimes probably. Anyways, here's a thing.

I may not be the most spacially aware creature on these five planets, but I do have a sense for what's
about. Possibly a bit of under. And most definitely some of the stuff that skims the top.

These were the words that came from the mouth of a thing that seemed to be inside of the source
of everything. But somehow always dancing along the borderlines. When he moved there was force, but
in a way that said, "I'm not quite sure if this is how it should be done". Because there were many
possibilities. He didn't worry about the possibilities in themselves, but he would beg you to ask
yourself this question. Are you really the culmination of everything that has been you and you it?
Or are you, just like him, dancing inside the possibility that at this very moment - at this very moment! -
you find yourself in such a state, like Maine or some other outlying state, that sees and observes the middle
(where all things from it can be seen in every direction), but does not quite know how to get there?

He would say that was very silly and that you should not think of things in terms of mappage. Or think in terms
of anything at all. Only take the things that have been previously mapped - there I go again - and
grab them like bubbles that pop and reveal the shimmering and slightly soapy product of your gains. Huge gains.
Massive gains. Dainty gains. Gainful gains that faint at the sight of being looked at too closely.

These were his words as they were reflected. There was not much he had to say about the actuality of things.
He did not think so highly of himself as to be able to define and direct. Only to take part lightly and with
deep stares into the photograph of the moment when necessary. Which seemed to be more often than not. But he
was never sure when it was necessary in actuality, or whether that was just something he did. We all seem to
do things now and again. He would think, "I do quite love when people do things because then I do not feel like
the only one. The things done are usually so cautious, waiting for the moment to be sprung." It's posssible he
was more spring than human. This might be why he is termed creature, featured in everything, but part of none.
How literary. So he would flip it on them. They would become the feature of the part that he belonged to. The part that
he directed himself through and danced in with ease. And when the finality finally began, he would smile, clap
his hands, and thank everyone for having attended the lovely ball - which to him seemed more lifelike and of life
than anything that occurred in the realm of our basest state.