There is a woman on a beach… There is a woman on a beach with no shoes… There is a woman on a beach with no shoes; and she is holding what looks like a long, blue broom handle… There is a woman on a beach with no shoes; and she is holding what looks like a long, blue broom handle. The woman is not human… There is a woman on a beach with no shoes; and she is holding what looks like a long, blue broom handle. The woman is not human. The woman is an antique vapor… At certain times when reading you can catch a glimpse of how odd our circumstance is. That is, simply by skimming our eyes over a series of glyphs we can produce an image and a story. Even with scant information the story/image doesn’t float in pieces in a void like a jigsaw puzzle in space; it kind of remains patiently abstract and kind of fully-formed, vague but still believable — which when said like that sounds wholly unbelievable. How can an image really be patiently abstract? But it can and does. As well, the image and story are neurologically weightless and not really neurologically locatable (brain mapping and droll Jacob Moleschott-like materialism notwithstanding). On one hand it’s very fun and curious, but on the other perhaps unsettling — we are very ok with very little information. Our varied powers of interpolation are legion whether that be conceptually as evinced with the shadowy story above, or as experienced in our general visual field (blindspots), or in the sense we have of ourselves in a larger whole. And what of the “the woman is not human” and “the woman is an antique vapor” parts? Yes, even near nonsense is not impossible for us to imagine. Metaphors? Science fiction? Whatever is left undefined will eventually resolve itself? Right?