marox_pass_as_nylem_flew_away fyn gula the silence that continued in nylem's sudden absence was awkward for everyone was, in their own way, discovering the reasons why they were brought to this place at this time. for is it not our destiny each day to reach the particular spot of wonder as it is presented? "eighteen heart attacks," the bridgeport giant finally said, breaking the stillness, talking about his grandfather who once battled nylem's father in the wars of pinoforia. "it was never an arrow that made life hiss forth from his lungs. it was his own inner machinery that failed." and this was his revelation, his contemplation of freedom, (what do you think about when you are free from oppression?) a moment of history, while the story of fyn gula resumed. others would dream of plates of ravioli, some of zucchini fried in fertile egg batter and spelt flour, first picked fresh from the fieldstone garden. nabiscus, watching nylem aboard the black draegyn becoming a spot on the horizon, spoke of his present meditative state, "i don't want to write because i want to live. i don't want to paint or draw or create because i want to live. i am tired of fantasy. i am tired of dreaming. i want to live. so what do i do about it? i work. i sit. i remain a child. am i happy? no. not right now. no, i have drawn myself into a star. all five points point one way, to the center. i don't want to be the center. i want to be pointing to one." 010731 ... log burning fire a dog on a chain smiling. 060316 what's it to you? who go blather from