succulence Quisqua following doggy's suggestion: In the center of the earth I will push aside the emerald so that In can see you -- you like an amanuesis, with a pen of water, copying the green sprigs of plants. What a world! What deep parsley! What a ship sailing through the sweetness! And you, maybe -- and me, maybe -- a topaz. There'll be no more dissensions in the bells. There won't be anything but all the fresh air, apples carried on the wind, the succulent book in the woods: and there where the carnations breathe, we will begin to make ourselves a clothing, something to last through the eternity of a victorious kiss. Neruda, Sonnet C from "100 Love Sonnets" 000302 what's it to you? who go blather from