How to write a story out of all the ways the story ends?
How to be obscure?

(…enough to trick your sight?)

the​story​continues out of all the possible ways it could possibly be.
Like that quantum trick of filtering out the nasin ken with the wrong result.
Come on, you say. You don't even know me.

(You don't even know me, you say. >>)

Well,
then.

There's a very loud plane overhead at the moment. Not the loudest I've heard, but it certainly breaks up the usual quiet of here.

I've been thinking — if anything happens, I probably shouldn't tell anyone.

sina olin e tawa e kute. sina kute e musi e pilin. pilin sina li lon alu nasin pi toki mi insa-

-should it be so?

'Cause, you know, it's a much more boring story if only the possible things are true.

And there's something wonderful in admitting that you don't know what has happened next.

Reading and writing are similar, they're just backwards.

Curiosity is satisfied by creation. At least, I've tried to.

And so we run, through the palace of strings, I mean — of words, I mean — of equals, I mean —

you median,

I mean —

you kind, definitely kinder than I deserve.

I don't even know if, when I try, I try to shepherd your story to be yours.

It has to be, though, it has to be.