Irony of ironies my one-track mind on an infinite meandering m o n o r a i l with its vigorously variable interest rate stopping often to smell one rose or lilly or dandelion at a time it can't see the forest for one tree or the tree for the wind or the wind for the cold or the cold for my coat but longs deeply to understand them all thinking deeper than roots blessed contemplative cursed curious . . . . . or do I have that backwards? want a taste? go to a circus in a neck brace and blinders.