Buried Disclosure

Oyparaploo: We're in an archeological dig right now, but we're not supposed to tell you the location.

Purrnet: So you're under earth sediment layers somewhere, brushing dust off. What's under the dust?

Oyparaploo: We can't tell you specifics of that.

Purrnet: Did you discover any ancient colored glass shards or a seasonal bone of a mammal? One of those merciful Roman pots, or a goatskin sandal from one of Constantinople's personal bodyguards?

Oyparaploo: We see what you're trying to get at. Sorry, no dice, Purrnet.

So we will have to sit with this mystery. Then send me back a Japanese haiku that has to do with Turns. It's early, and I'm more desperate than usual.

Oyparaploo: Rhythm of refusals has a warmth, even in this cold earth gravespace. There's something here that can't be communicated or shared with words. Plantless garden secrecy might become commonplace, who knows? Hope not. This is a place that could grow a few things, but doesn't. Can't, won't yet. The hole is in reverse this time: we're bringing up what got buried with dread.

Purrnet: You're all doing this fully awake, aren't you?

Oyparaploo: Have to sign off now in focus.

Purrnet: Send me that haiku.

(later that evening in a tent at a makeshift wooden table)

Oyparaploo:

We'll see what it becomes here next to Göbekli Tepe.

Purrnet: You're near stone circles older than the assumption that villages come before temples. Close to a place that turned everything. The withholding made the telling land.