Everywhere: small, eroding, violence. I asked what made the Grand Canyon. I asked if it was a glacier or an earthquake, an ocean or volcanic activity. All of the above. They asked me if a glacier and an ocean aren’t really the same thing.
I descended along the cliff-face and slid in my shoes over an ice patch. The canyon is just one mis-step away from the mis-step I have already made. It is a long drop down without an ocean flow, without a lava bed. So instead of finishing the hike I scrambled back up to the sublime top.
The sublime top: Hours later the sun was setting and the shadows across the canyon made it look more realistic. They should keep it that way. It’s more believable.
Uncertainty is the greatest eroding violence. Uncertainty “is a perennial mass which moves over land.” Uncertainty “is categorized in many ways including by its morphology, its thermal characteristics, or its behavior.” This is seriously all I know: the nearly supernatural approach… the magic of Find and Replace. I am copying and pasting as fervently as I ever did. In middle school everyone wiggled the tab off their empty soda cans to the tune of the alphabet. Wherever the tab fell off– I’m pretty sure that was it. I develop methods, codes, approaches. I find/replace. I wiggle and pull. I let it rest gently. Even when I do. I’m pretty sure that was it. It had something to do with love. Who knows which way around. Who knows which way.
Small eroding violence: I stop to build a taxonomy of the aspects of my uncertainty. I log the morphology. I count and double-count the thermal characteristics. Its behavior remains unpredictable and I hope to derive a descriptive formula from the rest of the data. If only I can calculate the shapes it has made then I can figure out where it is going. If only I could make it there first. With the shadows, it’s more believable. I’m pretty sure that was it. They asked me if they weren’t, really, the same thing. Without a bed
without a flow
I scampered back to the top