and then our exile

who then to cast the first stone? the piles of coin and enscribed papyrus at the foot of overturned tables, and heavenly food of bulghur and greasy white rice fed by an aged blessed hand.

just a little over a month remaining, and looking over past written words always the undercurrent of regret. whether the mask of pasternak or the eyes of byron. reflections, they speak, but it is not only words: it is /how/ the words are said, and /who/ speaks them, because the empty knowledge is anyone's to take, but to absorb the haal, the aura, of the one who speaks? this is another question and another answer, to ask of other than the pandarus who lay traitor.