1: Angel

I have a word for you; therefore, you exist, provided I define it as I please. An angel guides my pen; another dances about my study to distract me from the page. Sunlight breaks through winter clouds, a ray breaks through the blinds. Dust motes float in the column of light. Each mote either has angels in it or is accompanied by angels, a messenger, a cause, a circumstance, or the thought itself, pure in concept, but, in practice, let’s say, as impure as yours or mine, like the concept of you, which, although you may be unborn, born, good, or evil, exists— incorporeal and consequential, you cannot deny.

Toy Indian