In the cosmic stream swirling about my feet, there is a messenger carrying a spiraling incunabula of time where no words have ever been uttered. To decipher its contents I must forget everything that I have ever learned. I have to wash away every memory, every thought. Then I will be able to feel the silk of its foot grabbing on to mine. Slowly, I enter the stillness of the stream. Me, with my wrinkled snout pushing through the viscosity of the elements. My striped antennae swaying back and forth reading the ebbing and flowing concentric rings. That is all.