Some one sitting there could invite ghosts to dance. He was sitting there almost like being a ghost himself. Almost ascending in a wheelchair. He had switched from composition by interrogation. Almost such a lovely word. A dip from the universal all to the democratic majority of most. A peninsular word. See he was making them no inviting them to dance. To believe in some sort of fluidity even the flash of an eye lid closing upon the egregious share of every blunder. Blunder bladder it swells a dip. To be believed. That’s why he would issue invitations. Who would see those invitations. Sway of hand. More of a conductor than dance master. Choreography is by tradition off stage. Presto.
And so for day 1210