A wise tadpole once said, "A wise tadpole once said."
On that fine autumn morn, my head was swimming with questions. Why was that tadpole speaking in incomplete sentences? Why was what the tadpole said simply a lead in to a description of what it was saying? Or was the wise tadpole the wise tadpole referred to a completely seperate tadpole? What if this tadpole wasn't wise at all, but simply had built a false reputation of its own intellect by repeating the sayings of other wise tadpoles.
The thought struck me that maybe this situation was much like that evening in the chinese restaurant when I say surrounded by the remains of General Tso's Chicken, a plate scattered with fried rice grains, and a half-eaten bowl of hot and sour soup. I cracked open my fortune cookie and I discovered that my fortune read, "I discovered that my fortune read."
Perhaps these things are coincidence like those two pigeons from Oxnard flying into the same window in Pittsburgh three years apart, or maybe this is like the convergence of two river of sand.
