Proverb 1. When you move and live in the spaces between large bodies your stress, your casualty, your breakdown, your disfigurement, your death will be accepted as necessary as expectation as collateral damage as the breaking of eggs for an omelette. 2. Afterward, the agents of large bodies will sweep your scattered bits onto shovels into dustbins, splash your blood from the concrete with hot water and ammonia, reface the pocked limestone, apply fresh paint, plant flowers. The magic of broom, bucket, brush and trowel will make it appear as though nothing untoward had ever occurred here. Look...flowers. 3. Every massacre does not find itself on television, magazine, newspaper, media Broadways. In fact, most play on the interstitial stages between large bodies. They close to a chorus of crickets and settle into a tortured, anonymous future. 4. I wanted to spin these threads of ugliness into a fine and redemptive silk. Instead, I discovered the impotence of my magic when applied to cauldrons of lead. Indeed, I am more alchemist than scientist. My art is dead. Indifferent empiricism and cruel numbers survive and blossom. Look...flowers. 5. Beliefs are hollow wooden horses. Beliefs are viral. Beliefs are pedophiles with candy. Beliefs are gangrene and cancer. Beliefs are sedation and murder sold as cure. Beliefs are hatred parading as conviction. Beliefs are trained in the art of vanishing. Beliefs are taught to re-deploy on cue. Beliefs are stalking you now. 6. The paint, the sidewalks, the stone will shine. Flowers will bloom. As if nothing untoward had ever happened here. Look...flowers.