The door must not be left hanging on those stubborn hinges, it was too predictable… it was like the promise of a mishap that would never happen… other than this dubious peculiarity, he seemed to be a nice person… There were moments when a sense seemed to awaken though, inspired by his niceties… when he spoke of sense perception, when he spoke of the eyes… I felt like an organism… not human… an organism… organisms, sitting and discussing the limits of our perception of reality… thus the limits of our reality… organisms trying to amaze each other, but organisms who had forgotten amazement… too heavily loaded to be amazed… too distant to be amazed…
KNOCK KNOCK
S i l e n c e . . .
…who would knock at the door… open the door… doors of perception, Mister Huxley… open the door…
KNOCK KNOCK
…what are we waiting for? There was urgency in the knock, I am sure…
KNOCK KNOCK
…”we are waiting for a breakdown”… he poeticized…
A breakdown?.. there seems to be some time… let’s talk about sense perception, some more… and try to bring forth amazement…
Story Of The Footloose 