And mystery! Let us not forget mystery. I offer up the first line from one of my favorite poems: "What if a much of a which of a wind..."
What, precisely, is a "much of a which of a wind"? I don't know know for certain, but it might also be a much of a witch of a wind, which always makes me think of those small mischievous breezes which come along in October, lifting dired brown leaves intot he air like so many revenant sparrows, before disappearing as suddenly as they came so that the life goes right out of them and they fall tot he ground, just dried-up leaves once more. Ambiguity is what is spoken and unspoken simultaneously. Oh, and riddles: riddles entirely rely on ambiguity.
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"What if a much of a which of a wind..."
What, precisely, is a "much of a which of a wind"? I don't know know for certain, but it might also be a much of a witch of a wind, which always makes me think of those small mischievous breezes which come along in October, lifting dired brown leaves intot he air like so many revenant sparrows, before disappearing as suddenly as they came so that the life goes right out of them and they fall tot he ground, just dried-up leaves once more.
Ambiguity is what is spoken and unspoken simultaneously.
Oh, and riddles: riddles entirely rely on ambiguity.