Order Serpentes/The Reptile Brain

He sees. So much moving. So many directions. Lines and line crosses. Limbs, there are so many. They are like the trees he climbs. How they belong to one self, with all of their branches branching, he is not convinced. They are disorganized by nature. He perceives they are such as they are. The flailing, the jerking about, they do this. Their faces are never still. Their tongues do not come out of their mouths. Their tongues are long enough, but they do not stretch them, flicker them, to feel the wind. If they did, they would know the wind’s direction and they could be without questions. They could find a place, upon a stone, and there, upon the heat of the rock, they would absorb the day all around them. When it was of a too hot nature, they could dispense of the daylight and melt away into a cool cavern, making soft music passing over the leaves. They could pour themselves into a thinking space of shade and from there they could decide if now was the time for now, or if now was just a time.