… ipso fratre miserior: in the zone of the peripheral, that is perhaps better called – night vision, where the written word is becoming barely legible, but the other senses grow sharper, more aware.
The fire burns down and we huddle down, curling up together for warmth under cold, clear stars. Except one of us must stay awake, taking it in turn to keep watch. Remember, when the torch is held high, the green eyes in the dark spell safe. And the red eyes? Red eyes spell out the warning, That one could be coming to take you. And you. And you.
Not a bad definition I think for the democracy of fear. Ever since that time when there were no fences, no boundaries, and no walls to tell us apart. Frater. Brother. Sister. All one people, free. Yes, free! All of us that is, who know the value of the gift of death.
Our coinage of exchange. But it would be wrong to call it primitive. The reflex. Only peripheral, when that relaxation of the muscles of the eye reveals more. Noctis fratris ipso fratre miserior. Did you see where that one was? I am counting on you to have spotted it. Brother, sister, seeing in the dark, and were the eyes shining green or red?