he could spend more time making the setting just so but he has spent enough time collecting the tables and blades and finger bone paper the pipes and little bags and the bottoms of their shoes, the dust of years piled up in this corner just so. and now it is still all around him. and how long has it been thus, a stagnant pond? and where ought there be an inlet, where ought there be a river, where ought there be an ocean?
he is absolved, of course. his behaviors have been well within reasonable margins for considered success in anything so uncertain as life. shuffle the same old deck. you can float here. we all float here. slack off, boy.
it's open. what are you going to put in?