Polo Apology Apes
When she turns, there is a gesture toward the forest, a gratitude essence with laser play. It is, it seems, a force to suspend all incoming signals of symmetry.
She thinks. No, they can't see my intangibles until I play. I'm so sure they'll simply, for now, dissipate back into the trees in their true identity--the polo apology apes.
She grows a slow craving for configuration, spaces then no spaces then spaces then--a hunger for a gun? What's this? Hierarchical lines standing tall in darkness, some simply laying out, long-bathed in sunshine, preparing for battle?
Doesn't motherhood simple know to flock to the next big thing without any need for a Darwinian reason to win?
Yes. It's a rookie mistake to not know silent archetypes are the most deafening.