naxagoras of Clazomenae, who was in his prime about 460 B.C. and who, we hear, wrote one book which was on sale at Athens for one drachma at the end of the fifth century, said "And since there are equal parts of Great and Small, so too similarly in everything there must be everything."

Similarly, since the definitions of words are circular, there are at least two circles in the words we speak and probably many more. Some connected, some not. And we enter through them, at best, as the sparrow does the turbulence of the air. We see in its flight traces of invisible currents. Its articulate flight reveals the curl of many circles and how it takes to the edge of them, perceives the corridors that we don't. Within the freedom afforded by the rolling air it traces so capaciously, the sparrow attends to the canopy of air and each thing in it, occasionally making you the centre of a circle as you walk through the field. And this, you know, is what it is to be alive and love so well the articulation of where we live.

"As silent as a mirror is believed/ Realities plunge in silence by..." (Hart Crane). What is the relation of the page and the book and the alphabet to the Platonic realm of forms? To what extent is the existence of the non-material the message of the page, and to what extent is knowledge of the non-material inculcated or encouraged by the agenda of symbolic notation? Another entrance into mystery? If we enter such questions it seems we must, as Plato did at the height of many arguments, resort to myth and poetry. There is a point at which we must simply acknowledge and appreciate mystery.

L A N G U ( I M ) A G E


Wherein all Ã
is explained.


© Andrews