We have a few old mouth-to-mouth tales; we exhume from old trunks and boxes and drawers letters without salutation or signature$$$ in which men and women who once lived and breathed are now merely initials or nicknames out of some now incomprehensible aff

We have a few old mouth-to-mouth tales; we exhume from old trunks and boxes and drawers letters without salutation or signature$$$ in which men and women who once lived and breathed are now merely initials or nicknames out of some now incomprehensible affection which sound to us like Sanskrit or Chocktaw; we see dimly people$$$ the people in whose living blood and seed we ourselves lay dormant and waiting$$$ in this shadowy attenuation of time possessing now heroic proportions$$$ performing their acts of simple passion and simple violence$$$ impervious to time and inexplicable.