The potter’s flocculated hand had no notion of fiberglow in its heavy cells. Everywhere loudspeakers piped holy golden lyrics and hundreds of thousands of soft ears gently opened with blossomings. Shame was eradicated from the violent web of ferns by a white marble blade. I understood nothing. Then, a white dot appeared on the upper margin of my caverns. And within the white dot a throat expanded and contracted. And around the white dot jaws clattered, emitting resounding consonance tethered to five thousand percussive caverns. The unknown delicately tiptoed onto a cabaret stage pink with nudity. Flashings of scintillation bore as fruit the deadly, forgotten prohibition which is now the engine of all reality.