is not so much
a cure
for our vehement
dearth of imagination;
it's more
of a foul-tasting
homeopathic remedy:
a little of what kills us
is what goes
the longest way,
and the place
where we are taken
is the palace
of our ignorance.
With practice,
we come to think
of discrepancy
as nothing
but a plea
for our interest;
contradiction
as a pea—and we
are the princess.
