Accept, if you can, the situation. It is a day of those like before the windytree, when the Simons walked the earth with tigers and elephants. In the days like those we only had the climbing frame and the kiln to call our very nimble and our elderly side, young.

Now, I am old. The time has come for the biscuits to be moved into the lamp and for the rose to be placed above the hand of a glibbing crosper and the dishes shwoon’d to the apple of the monkey’s spatula.

Enough. Time becomes like the teapot. A symberline; a welted smuttle; the only test of the forks.

Good afternoone.

Hector