Here he was from nowhere to somewhere with no thought, no certain comprehension of now it had come about or why. Life was a magician's bag of tricks full of impossible escapes and transformations with nothing, yet incredibly always something up the sleeve. Was there something more, a knowingness without knowing -- a a sense of acknowledged by the senses but plucked out of the air like the snowdrop, mysteriously aware of the moment to put forth a flower even with the hostile air still harsh with the grappling hook of winter everywhere. The Bushman spoke of listening to the "taping" within himself. Whatever we do, wherever we go, Morse messages are there: warnings, assurances, directions to chart a course clean-cut and clear with nothing needed but to listen, nothing asked of us but to hear.

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