The anyhow time of beaver seems simple enough and directed. Build a home in the idea of home, and make it the wet part of everything in elemental time. Tho called industrious, beaver has yet to light a furnish. They shape the landscape like liquid lightning, that enterprise. A tail slap of water provides rousing vocal claim. Teeth that never cease to grow look like American aim. Flood a forest in the touch of time. PowerPoints from the beaver lodge explain life as ongoing. You have work to do while being done. Drag a branch into water in your own time, just try the challenge of chewing a tree. The state of being without or beyond a thing seems strange and without reference. Corporate continuity includes paperwork, fluffy forensic nothingnes. The breeders at Goldman Sachs have the future of no future faintly in mind. Numbers flatten the picture to easy register. And that becomes thriving. Flooded fields and forests trouble no beaver, they vindicate with a thriving lodge. Why does thriving not equal thriving and living not life? Well, as the story goes.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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