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November 27, 2020
In between, always in between. The lines say little, often nothing at all, high-brow jibber jabber, if anything, but between them lies the kernels of truth we seek. In between. We peel back the layers. How we go is peeling or not. Most fear the next peel. Most clutch the peeled skins. Dry, bereft of anything useful, they crumble, and we fall. In the fall we may see for a bright moment the folly of our enterprise. Should we clutch that epiphany, we might elevate ourselves, levitate, in fact, above the rotting mass of skins and finally truly see.