I am a novel-writing neophyte. Although, i have lost a non-novel writing contest before.
Well! i have a tentative course:
A boy reclines at the base of a tree, upon the high bank of a river, ruminating within a sunlit reverie, an idyll suggestive of Huck Finn’s liberty.
“That which cannot be spoken of must be passed over in silence.” The Boy, unaccompanied on the river-bank, finds—just as Wittgenstein—there is much which must be passed over in silence. (A mode of paresthesic dream-white translucency envisaged by a Boy prostrated in stupor.)
Uncertain how the idiom will be perceived I have decided to site some context which hopefully facilitates justification: Continue reading ““Choo-Choo to Broadway… Don’t get icky with the 1,2,3… Life is just so fine.””