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Of all the healers
Of all the healers he trusted only the one who broke into
his dreams to meet with his pasts, with the sames within
him that were his future. In a little while he will fall into
their shadow. In front of the window of a socialist
apartment building, the crown of a chestnut tree, daylight
coming to an end. A modest interior, a table for one, for
two.
It remains a mystery how the same is simultaneously
something else, what we reluctantly carry stubbornly enters
us and replaces us more and more. Shamanic
transformations, the wise man’s stone, conifers in bloom, a
babble that is suddenly a poem foreseen in the distance,
Gaya and Quil, Baba Yaga, Girl. Transformations, falls,
wanderings. What is visible when the invisible is always our
final determination? What is the future if we reproduce
with letters, vegetative?
It isn’t clear if the cawing of crows, usually three or four
consecutive calls, but also tapping and snapping, represents
a more complex language. But various species from the
Corvidae
family, as Linnaeus classified crows, can mimic the
human voice. A crow that speaks poetry is the most obvious
example of assigning the characteristics of a crow to man, a
phenomenon called
corvumorphosis
in literary science.