To find his work at just the right moment. Few would understand. Those that do sail on the soup? Yes, I suspect. Sail against the wind. How can that happen? Descend to the sky.
Hints of the horrible secret (or what seems to be) laced in pensive look-aways or desperate, angry whys. The answer is in the brew below not in the photons arriving? Or, at least, more so than he had heretofore assumed?
Natural language in a natural rhythm. Yet another way to encode the pattern. Is the time right to re-engage the fellow life-after… traveler, he wondered? These just-in-time revelations have become a regular occurrences. As a result, he wanted to act in timely fashion on the bounds-defining-spectrum problem of the observer mechanism.
She was clearly agitated, as if to fear what may be soon illuminated. It probably did not help that his own undesirable habit of expressing fear-driven anger stoked suspicion in her. But it felt, even in his calmest moments, that there was more. And he had found the key to the giant door. Far more enforced the barrier than the lock, but apparently was more dependent upon it than good design would suggest.
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