Thus it was he asked himself - How was it, then, that I had come to witness, to be there in the midst of, these scenes? How, to be thus placed in this turgid warm atmosphere of this bar reserved for a self-selecting clientele? How, and who, I asked, to be with Graceful at this bar, to witness it all, when at the same time knowing my eyes had never been present, and been absent and, even in that absence, been shuttered? These were the veritable mysteries vast, insoluble - these, the enigmatic ground of each and every pictorial element.
I went back in time with each and every scribe, was witness to all their beholdings, saw all they saw, heard what they heard, travelled without the benefit of craft, to be present, a ghost inhabiting each consciousness, an unseen, unheralded presence.
Continuing, then, with the Book of Joke -
..for yes, to tell a tale he had need of that on which to hang it.
He had witnessed the cold beheading, had taken the measure of all its tones and tonalities, followed each and every trail in the exquisitely carved enigma. He could have, had the need arisen, drawn you a map. He had not been one for strange dissemble, but rather frank in his occasions.
to be continued with
Some Occassions of Joke Lam......