The Pent Umbrage of the Tempy, Part XX
Cigar clenched in mouth, you looked both upward and downward, at the past and the present, the nobility and the vulgar.
You had been important once, as you had stood over those who were having the pleasure of working in material and form. They had ink splattered over their torso and their forearm, as had you. You were there beside them, partaking of the par they were taking, and you knew—this little bit that they had to be supplied with—the printing presses down here in the basement were rolling onwards, and on.
You didn’t know hither. You didn’t know whither. You did know that there was something satisfying in giving material form to these ideas, regardless of their provenance, their validity. You had a doubt that messirir Chambers had actually said that all the pholederal had a basis in constitutionality…But it was beautiful, nevertheless. Let the angels sing. You certainly would. Stung humbly by the fireside of a mammoth winged-tip desire of mammals that would traverse white winsome wastelands of … Anything but enclosure.