Fictions of Family, pt. 10
the developing words:
and part 10:
It taking so long to figure it out. What it’s “about.”
Discombobulates like sporadic noise. The fragments living are.
Four decades, seven children from three wives until he recognizes relation. Which changes things. Significantly.
It is the third wife (times charm) – out three strikes she staid on. Stays on. The difference between things.
In relation to one another. Evolving perception. The what-not, call it “aboutness.” Or in relation to…
This in relation to that is about this much this high this far. Or else nothing at all. In itself. By itself.
By himself, barely amount, insignificant cipher, plus three plus seven plus anything adding up, er, becomes.
Alone is less than one, or, not a number. It takes 1 to know 1, in other words, all-one really means no 1. Unless distinguished from something else, another 1, an other.
This he could tell. The third wife, the difference between. The aboutness. Differing shapes entirely, nearer still, at this distance.
1 cannot equal. Impossible equation. Might as well be naught, be 0 – a 1 wrapped around itself (turned-in) – revealing just a hole, something seen through. Looked straight through.
Telescope, microscope, still substance unseen, a looking at, really, looking for. Simply looking, opened at both ends. Perhaps a simple function. What an organism is, alone.
She calls out, in fact pursues him halfway across. As if to say she sees something, peering through her self-same circularity – that he is there. He begins experience, begins to get it – something else must be looking, another 1, for him to be seen, to hear of himself.
In what she tells him.
Multiple inputs introduce noise (read chaos, read being), make possibilities, provide things to figure out. With all the variables it takes a lot of time (to get what it’s about).