freedom is the journey
The thing about ignorance is that a person ought to know better. Like what’s up with the lump in your armpit. Why is there somebody else’s hair in the shower. Or where did all this money come from. Not knowing these sets nobody free.
Yet answers are already there and fate leads to them, whether around the corner or on the next page. In the punchline. In another episode. Or waiting at the end of an alley. Tension builds believing life is flowing, unfolding. Even though the acting’s over before the opening credits roll.
Ironically, novel means new. The book is printed. The story, finished. The author fled the building. Rooting for the hero will do about as much as yesterday’s sports scores. Yet in unknowing lives possibility. If fate is arriving, in travel are we free.
We rattle a Christmas present. Or place a bet. Or send out a shotgun of applications. And never feel so free as when we desire that which will outlive us. Or so ignorant as when ought to know better. Knowing better, he rinses the errant hair strand down the drain before his wife returns. Nobody wants to be that free.
In Tree Scream, what appears to be a motorcycle accident is culling by spirits among us. In Ignorance, an unfaithful spouse disposes of evidence to keep open the freedom of unknowing.
