More vivid than reality

Well sure. Absolutely. Certainly. Say no more. Or do I hear, Say more, Say more! Perhaps less is more. Perhaps less has an edge before which each unfolds their shoji screen willing it to be cut. There on the other side, something more acute, the shadow fled, the mother alarmed by all the signs, our hair stands to attention, our sense of smell takes over and leads our senses into the light, where we find pinks like secret mucous linings, a cave illuminated where only the foolish dared venture——outside, explosions, an engine revs up and then recedes, the other part of the equation come alive, shifting our focus like the dial of an antique microscope, back, back, till we see monstrous detail become intricate patterns, till the general shape of things gives way to a gathering of three, bent in silence over a table in a café, and then a crowd, a movement, handing the precious book from one to another, and then the coastline where ants all walk on the right, and then, the blue orb spinning, turning, cloud-hidden, as the philosopher warned us, and then, a speck of light, and the shadow returns.