The Descriptive Injury: Part Ii

it would have been an injury to them both to attempt a description, to bring what it was that compelled the girl to silence (if she had not chose silence beforehand---one outside can never be sure) to formulate an image, to dispel some kind of physical qualities verbally which to the person outside might have made some impression upon them, because that unique allurement of which the girl did focus could never truly be brought into any kind of distinction for the rest of us, in fact to try would only taint it & do a disservice to the whole of the event--- rather, even a more considerate onlooker, who stopped when crossing into the other room, in order to ask the girl about her moment in awe, would only force a quick death to what was happening, like waking up from a dream involving the two, neither can make the other understand anything but the attempt at understanding, for what is to be understood exists solely on its own---right out there in the focus, or it lies dead in our savage description--- and when the questioner came back after a few minutes, unsatisfied with the absence of any answer (as so many of us impatient imbeciles are), after turning, the girl spoke a few phrases which to the questioner seemed only nonsense at best, as if she’d been spoken to in a language that she didn’t know--- what had been said was simply a description also, one that felt only like another installment, a domino in the falling, predictable effect, wherein one person tries to get at the heart of the matter, while the other tries to help them & a million conversations begin, part ways & begin again, constantly picking up the baton & then dropping it, be it like the boredom of rereading a “choose your own adventure” book, or a fresh new mistake found when the collision of the selves within mess up the overall stability of the whole.