I forgot what I was thinking again. I was thinking about idolatry before, false idols, then I thought of the objects that lay by gravestones. These are true, though their meaning is lost to particularity. What is inscrutable attracts us. I can't hold everything in my mind, far from it, while breezes pass through it as though a hut with open doors on all sides, and unscreened windows with birdsong.