The distance beyond thought and the differences in attention, the works and talents afforded according to nature or the actuality of practical and practice, the applicant value of any amount of gradient or potential doesn’t concern me, the actuality of reality, place, space and privacy does. The immediacy of proximity and the ease of guessing at repetition: similar instancing and entrapment, especially in the refusal to believe? These supposed facts of proximity, participation and paradox limits challenges and values in shallow assurances of coincident don’t actually make sense. Beyond that, are a confiscation of privacy and personal space, and have no place. The shapeliness beyond words, these letters of assurance and the bends and curves of indicative within mind, the ways in which language has spelled us, movement and pacing indicatives of breath, these hollow vessels breathing timing and attention. The figures of daylight conditioning the relentless framework of wobble and turning axis, the distances could imagine timing, too, but these predispositions of shapeliness, were they harnessed in the length of a breath or the formulate of a word? What dust particle clung to a shape in mind to form a letter or word without? Particles of shapeliness caught in chambers to electrify to chemical form, these densities and pressures of space, motion and shapeliness besides time and space: distances like chemotaxis, Zeeman, the figures of absolved limits and absolute boundaries of interest, the guardrail figures of distances for slowing down, for stillness, for silence and actual clarity with no background. No light or dark, no prism of color, actual clarity. Water. A snowflake. Actual clarity in nature, actual stillness and that which is beyond form or thought, the conditions of impression or expression and the ways in which environment and predispositions in gradient potentials reform and converse actuality to perspective sense. According to each, and each to their own, patterns in nature and the need for deviation, for random chaotic reformations of past data, to do something differently…with all the same matter. No matter what. For the day when everything has actually been said, or the day when something new could actually be muttered. Exactitude in timing and the indicative weight of attention or excitement, any meaning cause or reason could be applied and seem to work well enough, perspective bias will never disappear. The fact that nothing is ever going to be new does not mean we could ever learn everything or know it all: constant change. The constant. is. Change. The distances beyond exactitude and the differences in ambiguity and unknowing. The distinction of reference and the need for the actuality of difference in the assumptions of knowledge and timing, especially. Referent unknowing and the need for real and accurate information, if the referent information is timed according to another diadem, the differences met with could symbolize anything according to that diadem, and could pretend to be reasonable. If it works…it doesn’t make it real, actual, or fact. It means that it could fit a diadem for a short enough or long enough time period to seem to make sense. But really, it just doesn’t. Synesthesia, the ways in which senses could be intertwined, perspective assurances of assumption and the actuality of perspective in biological sense and behavior. Perspective is easy to skew, the need for information reliability remains and the actuality of attention or excitement isn’t decidable to outside perspective. Water falling off the roof, splashes to puddles beneath the Elder Berry, washes these flat orange rocks beneath clean into the mud, the tops of them all shiny. It sounds like something I’ve drunk before, but something so much like water that it has no taste. It couldn’t be this same water, falling to the ground from the rooftop, it must have been something I heard, something I heard about…it fills me up. Imagined an abyss, that could fill with something, but that must have already been filled up. Down.