Something crude, behind us, is pushing. If we look back, we become it. A subtler way, before us, ahead… is inviting us to new frontiers of ways (and being). If we go forward, rather than falling backwards, we go, somehow, beyond: there is no image, no structure, no messenger. Only the nascent promise of a kiss whose shape will instruct our future intelligence, rather than capitulate to the stunningly crystallized corpse of its developmental histories.