Show me the order of the world, the hard-edge light of this-is-so prior to all experience and common to both world and thought, no model, but the truth itself. Language is not a perfect game, and if it were, how could we play? The world's more than the sum of things like moon, sky, centre, body, bed, as all the singing masters know. Picture two lovers side by side who sleep and dream and wake to hold the real and imagined world body by body, word by word in the wild halo of their thought.