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Yearning begets yearning: the pea plant yearns for a lattice, so it grows tendrils—then every tendril too years for a lattice. Yearning draws tendrils out of the spindly green pea-shoot only to find itself compounded, elephantine.
Tendril wending is swervy and conjectural; like a dancer who cannot quite hear the music, pea tendrils are antic with inapprehension. Since there is no way for them to apprehend a lattice, the only direction to grow is yonder. Haywire personalities like peas, wobbly personalities with loose ends, iffy ends, result not from having no aim, no object in life, but from having an extrasensory object. What they want is beyond their powers of apprehension—until they hold it in their acute green wisps—so their manner is vagabond. The personality that longs only for perceptible things is down-to-earth, like a dung eater. But the teetery-pea kind send out aerial filaments to hound the yonder, tending every which way, guessing themselves into arabesques, for they are fixed on the imperceptible.
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