This makes it to the big screen: A reply to Frances

Yes, choose someone else's class to sit in. haha I am in serious doubt that there is much I can teach you. (Although I can almost imagine now you raising your hand, speaking in tounges (how does one imagine someone one has not seen?) and the rest of the class fading into the background as I stumble to answer your question. With hesitation. With what's left of a good, deep question. The kind that doesn't end. While the world turns dark. Because it's already 6. And even the night too has its own mother waiting to close the door on it. Into the light.)

There are other days when things are simpler. When silence means yes there is much much happening in the blurry backdrop of a street scene. Or an old house. Or the whole throng of creation's hierarchy: angel, and devil, and sweet heads with wings, and rings of light. And one walks, or runs, as if with music. As if one was music. And a fit of laughter lifts the young girl into the gaping whole of the sky that must be the mouth of god.

But sometimes silence means no. And like with any swift refusal we have seen, heard, stolen away before. We have nothing to say to it. We pretend we have not heard. We are born again, and this time without ears.