In the beginning the dreaming not the word. The word came later. It came whenever and betrayed silence and this was the beginning of fiction. Now you’ve got what passes for a world of dreaming of fiction and parallels splintered into multiples merging. Metaphors moved worlds. People grew from wilds. From the bones of sound. Someone heard someone else talking and that someone and someone else were born through listening and talking. When this happened no one knows. To say it happened a long time ago or that it has yet to happen amount to one and the same thing. The bones of sound rest on symmetry. Time is required to keep a beat a rhythm yet music itself resounds timelessly. Symmetry is proof of the dreaming. Within the dreaming there are many stories beginnings parallels multiples and everything everywhere dreaming going on dreaming going on dreaming going on. The bones of sound endless. Symmetry indivisible. Let me tell you a story someone once said and in telling this story they were also saying Let me tell you a story about me telling you a story. In the telling is the me and the me and you. In the telling parallels merge then split and merge again endlessly. Stories cannot die. They are the impossible.
Painting by Jackson Pollock