They sit inside a multitude of cans—or a labyrinth if you prefer broken continuity—on shelves through which you glide, blindly shopping, reaching out and, between each reach, allowing time for the list of ingredients to grow as so many terms to incorporate.
—Make sure you rehearse before exiting! Out there it will not appear you did something so passé as shop for ideas. Out there, you must write a book about it: all exams disappear, or so they’d like. “I threw my back out writing them.” You’d haunt the school days with your own Dread Hollow Mix.
And worse, there's a writer out there, likely many years dead, who’s done precisely what you’re setting out to do. This is not so easy as saying you have a literary model because it's one you’ve yet to find.
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