...soon, all accounts of my language will s h i n e through. What this means is anyone's guess. I find I am now writing to appease the academic demigods to whom I am so... lovingly indebted. Is this what I imagined it would be? Does it matter? What matters? Speak, now I ask you... what matters? Is it this? or is it that? A jot? A tiddle? Can you tell me? But ov who do I ask? This this. This now, now and forever... Remember me as I am... as I was, as I would have been... I am yours... and no other....
