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I guess I should say a little bit about my method - I really am a fence sitter. I *loathe* Science and am always keen to attack it in most situations, though not here, because I love Reason and I'm perfectly aware of the difference. I also know what a concept means like Rules of Evidence. I'm not sure that's a concept as widely circulated in these circles as it needs to be - in other words, how *do* you tell shit from shinola? That's very critical. I think reason can only take us a certain distance, and then we have to go with the divine imagination, but with all safety systems fully in operation, or the divine imagination will lead us into complete paranoia. ↗
In the morning she found pieces of a bird chopped and scattered by the fan blood sprayed onto the mosquito net, its body leaving paths on the walls like red snails that drifted down in lumps. She could imagine the feathers while she had slept falling around her like slow rain. ↗
V had a passing thought that she used the word "anyway" like an eraser on a crowded chalkboard. She said it whenever she needed to clear off the things she'd just shared to make room for more. ↗
Tod's pale brows arched halfway up his forehead, and he looked suddenly, achingly wistful. "She knows not what she says..." Maybe not. But I was starting to get a pretty good idea... ↗
A brick could be used to represent my hero. My hero obviously doesn’t look like a brick, but since he is my hero I decided to represent him as more handsome and interesting than he really is. Who’s my hero? Any member of Congress. ↗
#brick-and-blanket-iq-test #brick-and-blanket-test #brick-and-blanket-uses #divergence-test #iq-test
To Sara's practised eye, this latest episode looked something like a broken heart, even if she'd never seen the look on him before. Or even imagined it happening. She wondered if he'd noticed yet. ↗
He had never imagined so clearly the consequences of mailing a letter--the impossibility of retrieving it from the iron mouth of of the box; the inevitability if its steady progress through the postal system; the passing from bag to bag and postman to postman until a lone man in a van pulls up to the door and pushes a small pile through the letterbox. It seemed suddenly horrible that one's words could not be taken back, one's thoughts allowed none of the remediation of speaking face to face. ↗
