“There is the incomplete, the becoming, the possible… and beyond such terms, more. There is the seen, the familiar, that which we suppose or actually recognize. That which apparently is. These two, the incomplete, and the seemingly complete (yet transforming), are at once in opposition and unity. But it is not the known or the complete that has precedence; rather, that is a bit of flotsam on the edges of the storm. And we are mostly of the storm’s nature, not the structures that float before our minds while awake. In waking time we mediate the storm, and the structure with its forces, else we succumb, and serve the remains of becoming, and not its spirit or faces. Woe to those who would tend the tombs of possibility so often called the real, and raise them above the living storm, its histories, spirit, purposes and heroes.”

— an anonymous informant