he thought the border was a line, between two spaces, two tongues or a no man’s land where imagined demons slithered through the night or, when dreaming, a door, to another world, yet still a flatland
but he dreamed little
and when I told him the border was the slit eye of a fish immersed in waves without words a place where sound could be tasted and a scent seen as clearly as scarlet sky and light inhaled as a suckled symphony when I told him this he asked what two worlds this border defined as if my words had been heard by his ears rather than tasted as the sweetest lies
maybe one has to have taken hallucinogenic drugs to get this mystical one