In an effort to explain the process, or procedure–haphazard as the origin of each topic may be–that I use to write the entries in this blog, I said that while I could not sufficiently account for the choice of subject, why one thought seemed ripe for expression and another too sorry to worry into presentable shape, therefore dooming the blog in general to randomness, I could however explain, was quite sure of by repeated experience, how subjects, once launched, got their ending. And it was, I explained to Mondrago (an on-again off-again visitor to my kitchen table) by the fortuitous appearance of a single word, a word that would seem to catapult itself into prominence during the exposition. The appearance, yes, and then the seizing of focus on that single word, would together propel me to actually organise the piece, right then and there, as if a time limit had been imposed, around that word, which would then become the title of the piece itself. Rendering the subject, chosen as I said by untraceable and erratic means, as yet another example of the outstanding fact, that the task of writing is largely an unveiling of latent mysteries. Especially for readers such as yourself, I said to Mondrago, who would be insensibly pulled into the drift, and then, signaled by that one word, be able to catapult themselves into a free zone of imagination. Should no such word appear, I go on forever

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