There is a hole in the story; a shade. On some days there is time, he said,
but what time there is never adds up to anything much more than halves.
In this hole, the accomplice is the accomplice only without the name. He is
something other than what she knows. Often times the weeks go by and the willing
goes with them, taking the whole of what she knows to be herself as well as the he
she knows the accomplice to be, only this does not make the intangibles that she takes
with her any more real and in fact the point could emphatically be made
that the intangibles she takes with her are more imaginary and self-consoling than the
willing could ever realize them to be, even on the days when she is furthest away
from the ego, from her geocentristic blind spot. There is a hole in the story
because she refuses to make it complete. The accomplice has had no choice
but to create a story for himself where there is elliptical resonance, a place
where movement and speech have direct dependency on one another, always being
interchangeable and reflective, never being incongruent and falsely represented.