Morning sun spread across the lens revealing a renewed pattern of crossed silk strands. They gazed through the lens, sight obtained, and recorded. The lens looked toward a four-lane highway, vehicles moving east and west. Peering through the silky strands, vehicles were pointed east, toward the lens. As they sped to and passed, the sun lowered itself and created the illusion of mist and foreverness as the roadway banked softly to the left and became hidden by tall leafy trees that crept near the edges of the paved path.
Phreddie was resting outside the view of the lens. Nestled on the final turn of silk, he intuited.
Iktoo vision had been created, Phreddie received the slender “X” shapes in the vision and practiced their shape, woven as an afterthought of movement. Many of the slender X’s were written upon southern edges, and a few near the northeast. He had delighted in moving freely along the trace of his dance, creating the center of the universe. Phreddie’s dance had moved along the horizon. If They looked through the lens their view would be guided toward misty white clouds and distant trees.
Phreddie waited as spiders do, with motionless patience. He listened. A few voices passed by, distant and below. The two were speaking back and forth about a conflict — someone named Paul had been eating all the ice cream. Later Phreddie overheard a discussion about a sporting event — the home team had not won a championship in over a century. Phreddie chuckled, “over a century” he repeated within himself.
He danced silk strands over a lens. With no considerations of purpose, Phreddie performed. He recreated what he knew, and he knew nothing. To those who know nothing, knowing something or considering why something is something that does not pass. Phreddie did not think about the lens, or the web, or the visions of dance, or that his web overlooked an often busy thoroughfare. Phreddie noticed the fenced walkway provided tidbits of talk to over-hear, he heard the chatter, but he did not hold it in his mind. He did not consider the lights from the bridged walkway brought him a blinded spree of flies, mosquitoes, beetles, and moths. He ate them.
The last silky strands united. The day broke open to share its light with the world. Phreddie drifted downward out-of-view, the night’s work complete. As the orange morning re-lit the lands, a pattern of light had emerged from the dance. Phreddie enacted the vision that was offered to all — he moved through the night compelled by what was shown. They viewed through the lens what They could not see.