Other night I decided to mess with an AI research agent to see what kind of details it could point me towards concerning wampum, a goofy-corny childhood play term we used to use. Actually, it was a reverential term in the native American language of the tribes local to my formative region, coastal and inland New Jersey. These people called themselves “Lenapi”.
Tell me… am I thinking too much? Or can we make a real sacrament out of the debris of the everyday unwakeful routine?
Amazon Warehouse: hell on Earth
A Novella in installments, tracing the intermingling autobiographies of a boy and a violin, spanning over a century. The previous episode is right here. To find any episode, look here.
(The protagonist posing with some old friends: a Japanese shakuhachi, A Zimbabwean mbira, and a good ol’ American jaw harp.)
(12) – The Communion Breakfast, NJ, 1964
||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 