"Scintillatio in astris est emissio illa fulgoris, et revibratio, illis propria, qua videntur scintillas quasdam emittere, qua intuentium oculi, et oblectantur simul, et quodammodo praestringuntur: Ea, ut dixi, propria est Astrorum, seu siderum inerrantium, haud planetis conveniens, ut Philosophs ipse notauit: quorum aliqui licet, cum paululum supra horizontem elevantur, simile quid ostendunt, et maxime Venus, ac Murcurius...attamen mollior, et longe diversa est haec evibratio, quae assimilatur potius motui et circumagitationi flammulae in lucernis, quae non ab intrinseco venit, sed ab extrinseco, ab aere ambiente."
. — Hieronymo Vitale, 1690
Andabatismally acrimonious asperities are arising amid ambitious attempts to adjute affectively adscititious adminicular anacoenoses amounting to awfully anthypophoric anthorisms and aerumnously amphigorical agnoiologies affabrously adumbrating an apodeictically aporial and abjunctively acataleptic anagnorisis.
What it is is it's basically a metamorphic potpourri of disjunctively parallactical perturbations resonant with metaleptically intercontrapuntal juxtapositions, subtly evoking the ephemeral liminality of immanence whilst probing contrastructural dialectics amid pseudoarticulated simulacra of ursonance, ultimately framed through a reduplicative synthesis of discourses spanning semistructured spaces of epistemically hypothesized metamappings interpolated across interstratified boundaries of quasirepresentational foci subtly shrouded in oscillance, encompassing exacinated protospheres of hyperspicuously integrative metadynamics.
The day is a beautiful crisp cool pre-autumnal day shimmering with golden streams sunlight, winds from the deep waters rolling through the morning air, an eaglet cawing deeply from a nearby treetop, answering an echo from a clifftop wilderness epochs away. Flora of hot pink and neon yellow and orange crush and scarlet red and blackberry plum cascade in quilted weaves of petals born from perennials of light. Bronze and copper and gold flow from the sun and settle into a brassy haze in the slumbering shape of my pussycat, sprawled and happy and forever awaiting his afternoon walk. Horse-shaped clouds gallop into pearly blue and meet wind and re-emerge as little lambs. A deep inhale of memories of buttercups and primroses and honeysuckle water mouth and tickle nose, dragonflies and butteries and bees dance in delight, I step outside and am reborn. Everyday the world will continues to be a beautiful place with a million things to do and see and learn. The sun coruscates a bit more brilliantly. Country clouds float and swirl more joyously. The sky will soon blaze like blue ice and the lake in front of me wink early winter glimmers. The breeze already tings with tangs of ice. Sunset turns everything into a mesmerizing, other-worldy venusian belt. Human life a mere skitter across time.
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