Sunday, January 27, 2008

All rectangles could be squares, I suppose, folded correctly, looked at from the appropriate angles. Folded appropriately and looked at from the right angles, all rectangles could be cups of hot chocolate or bouquets of earthworms or vast expanses of the universe. That's the thing about rectangles. A rectangle, properly motivated, could escort us to the points where our circular and elliptical orbits overlap, and explain just what we're supposed to be looking at.

I know that I collected smiles for a while, packed them into rectangles, shaved them off in pieces and stuffed them in a jar like watermelon pickle. But it looks like some other squirrel has gotten into them and sent them into space, because I can see them falling in flames through your sky like delicious meteorites. I would reach for them, but I think that they would scorch off the lines of my fingerprints.

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