There’s certainly something about freneticism that fascinates. In any case, thinking about it is my only pastime other than playing backgammon with myself. I know there are others here, proximous, but my cloister is sealed.
I’m told - or rather, I’ve read - that the original vegetative experiments quickly got out of hand, thus my mention of freneticism. The stems and stalks wound and warped themselves through the diameter of the moon, in one side and out the other, looping back around to make further plunges. Of course, all this happened in slow motion. In the end, the radius of the moon itself grew by nearly a kilometre.
Blossoming into innumerable divisions and doubling back on itself, by the time “we” (meaning whoever was in charge) regained control, the organic matter had left looming spaces like surrealistic sanctuaries for unwilling monks. These were sealed off and made into independent, atmosphered pockets. And that is where I work.
I’m allowed outside on furloughs at regular intervals. I always spend them getting blasted. It’s an endless cycle, but it suits me.
