The intelligible silences of living beings, places, flies and weather… their absolute truthfulness as embodied relation… is a perfection. They have nothing to say about analyses, nor anything to say at all. In silent presence, in activity or rest, they are infinitely deep instances of the natures of time, space, light and relation. There is no discussion. Terms and concepts are rendered absurd. What might be derived into something like speech is instead subsumed in absolute intimacy of purpose and living relation. As if we are ensconced in a transentience, where a ‘library’ of ‘living books’ who become your mind and ways of knowing should you be so fortunate as to establish contact… with that … within you, which is extended and embodied… in every form and ecology of life on Earth.