The world is mother's belly. The world is pliable especially if you nuzzle it up. I don't know the words yet, but it tastes like narrow “eeeeeee”. We can not see the difference between the sleep and wakefulness yet. But when we think that we are awake we start toddle forward. To the touch. If there's wall we sit and look down and it may seem that we are thinking. We always grope our way forward and forward, though we do not know where we go, and whether we go, and whether we go forward. Sometimes I feel this tickling noise through my eyelids and it gives me the impression of mild [L']. Our joints are too feeble to reach this "L" and the ground resists us. We learn to walk with the feeling [st]. When I'm tired of this struggle I want to return to [pl]s and [bl]s, to pliable, placable, blubbable, lullyble belly. I don't know words yet, and don't know what they mean when they call us “blind puppies”.

Current music: Dorena - Solen Har Forblindat Mig