Leonhardt Conspiguous

Once more I have to thank readers for random-ing around in aged posts of mine – giving me a chance to read again writings that at one time emerged, only to be forgotten in the hurly-burly of life. It is a joy for me to encounter Leonhardt again, hope some of you enjoy him as well…

Precipitate Flux

Leonhardt Conspiguous

 

Leonhardt Conspiguous would have known the difference.  Between, say, BWV 161 and BWV 173; or a trunk or tail if he’d been born a blind mouse.  LC always knew the differences.  But he found similarities difficult to trace.

In conversation Leonhardt once encountered a man who’d read the entirety of his library, (the titles so resembling his own as to appear indistinguishable), drawing the same conclusions as LC in the shared vocabulary.  LC was unable to devise a category or designation for this phenomenon.  It was like looking in Leona’s eyes.

A concave lens forms a sphere of reflection, and hers – of grey of green of blue – mimicked Leonhardt’s so completely both in color and tone, that he’d instantly felt something farther back, back behind, any place he’d ever felt before.  In himself or another.  As time went on and her desire gained in details…

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"A word is a bridge thrown between myself and an other - a territory shared by both" - M. Bakhtin

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