Dropa word into the well of the brain, it...

Dropa word into the well of the brain, it sinks in deep and the ripples move out tothe skull and ripple back from there, and somewhere between the bottom of thewell and the ripples, meaning is made. An image enters differently, a color, a shape,a pulsing shaft of light on the bedroom floor. It’s thrown into the well like ahandful of pebbles that sizzle across the surface. The ripples ring out againsteach other, and out against the wall of the skull. What do you see? Lucien Freudpainted the eye of a teenager, her vessels, bolting and looped, the milkyweight of her lid, the light reflecting off her glisten. Count the colors — midnight,cinnamon, moss, pond. Orange, light brown, pink, wheat. The delicate penetrability.You, unseen, see what she sees with.