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You ask me in a voice of clarity why the nose buried in paper and glue when day awaits, and if you advocate entymology and exhortation. When trouble begins at the axis of a square and I respond in perfect golden triangles leafed one after another at the bottom is a transmission of knowledge. Would I know the properties of gold if not as exhumation and exhibition? At the root of each pure act is some sort of exchange and if you wish to think that base, then so it is basic: base, french, basis, latin, basis, greek, a step, a pedestal. Come here, I say, come over here and read with me this book, ignore for a few hours the intrusive day, this transient weather, clouds passing over the sun, deceptions of which we share together here on this floor receptive of absorption, these walls interested in loquaciousness, this precious paper eternal in transcription, we hand each other perception.