This Other Thing 2

This other thing I have going on other than life- this little existential sideline- cannot be fully explained to you but I will persist in marking out its key features. I realise, of course, that because everything I describe can only be grasped metaphorically I could, perhaps, put each word in inverted commas- yes everything in inverted commas, for this other existence, and I even hesitate to use the word existence, is the very meat of the so-called, fleshed out in endless reams of possiblity. I say possibilty because it, this other thing, is the vast or endless realm of possibility where blue is beyond blue, and yellow tapers into a ringing sound of a million bells whose golden sheaths glisten so bright that hearts, if they may be called so, start to hum, not a bassy, vaguely ironic hum of life but a hum which yields little moons, moons that compose the quiet sermon of all your dreams.

This Other Thing 1

As well as having life there is something else I have going on. I can't tell you much about it. It's not exactly a place, nor does it exist in time nor does it have much in common with life. The best way I can describe it is metaphorically, by that I mean I can make loose descriptions of things which you can compare to the content you have in the thing you call life life. For example, one of the things I have in this "other thing" is a plenitude of plump ducks with brilliant morrocan blue feathers and sunset-gold wings.

When you're ready, I'll tell you more about this other thing.