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Note to Selfie,

• Children are sponges, it's said. Mine is a mop. He picks up everything, from the farthest corners of the floor with his ears. In the wringing of dailies, he spills back what he hears. What was that? He's heard pure intonation: Emphasis. The boy is very musical; to be exact, he is Lyrical. It matters not what was said, only the Relish taken in, in its expression. Then his mouth curves with upward pleasure and he tries it out, whatever it is. As yet meaningless sound, oration, an echo that comes back to haunt and he pays tributary attention to inflection, and the response of his Audience •