So, talking here about dreams and wanting to go on talking about the AWP, we might try seeing that convention as the dream it must be. The dream of the writers and critics and librarians and publishers and professors is an orgy of mummified creativity both realer than any other guys' and more wild, but always already basically about Power over others as Power in the Word, in another word--"magic." The entire orgy of stripping away the declarably false in favor of the true produces not a nudity but the Umpire's clothes of trying to call all the strikes and balls. Even with cynical distancing (28), you can get from this swirl no more than its lust for Powers.
Yet there is something that stands outside this mating ball in another uniform made up of how history has drawn the gods and their powers; it is not joking when it calls to you, but exercising its investiture:
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