The past is over and that happens more than you think. Which could be speculation like, They don’t fire him because they don’t know we know or don’t care we know or academic freedom is a privilege but not like we thought. Memory is unreliable making misdirection the sticker price of retrospection. The value of the past being how it orients instinct. Hey. Holiness went that way? Your co-workers raided the dispensary. The shrink wrote you a scrip for valium. The pain-center was a tumor crazy for your right ovary. Read the sign and calculate a likelihood, lovable odds you’ll self-spiritualize. That cerebellum zone passed on by your father helms navigationally precise insight codifying you and him as a teensy admirable and weensily intimidating. Look to your future. It’s malleable, not like ducklings more like wet clay shivering in anticipation of thumbs. Unreliable memory is understudy for sublimity. Observation and waiting, a daily workout. Zero-in on the thing bright-eyed and hopping with more.
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