[and so the profound, whimsical, insightful repartee begins, and continues between blood and philosophical brothers, since the summer of 2016…their aphorisms posted here in chronological order]
Serendipitous monologues of the character of mothballs elude transposition.
Moral triumphs are a speck of colored sand. It is not my accomplished reason,
it is my awkward dance along the trellis that marks my solace. – Sinz