Who built the world? Why? These are the questions that define everyone’s perception of Escherelm; they are questions one may find answers to, though no citizen of Escherelm will assist in such intellectual, cultural, or historical investigations. This is due—according to some anthropologists—to the distinct nature of Escherelm itself. The multiple gravities and surreal juxtapositions of Escherelm-native environments erodes the common human perception of single-plane reality and, consequently, single-plane mentality. This is most jarringly obvious in the literary, poetic, and musical traditions of Escherelm. Indeed, the only common, defining factor of life in/on/under/over Escherelm is the manner in which data-transmission occurs. The written word is a radial, multi-dimensional phenomenon: a central linguistic kernel from which every possible variation of that word (or thought) emanates. The spoken languages of Escherelm are shaped by this (in)distinct feature of writing, and because of this, there are many who believe that an answer to the two fundamental questions outsiders present to Escherelm may be found in the literature/poetry/songs of the world. Who built the world? Why “I don’t know,” Jonathan said, as I heard his rolling, baritone voice strike the tympanic membrane of my right ear. “Don’t you know?” Jonathan asked, as I heard his rolling, baritone voice strike the tympanic membrane of my left ear. “One tree has many branches,” I said, unsure of the question Jonathan might have heard with his left ear. Or was it his right? “You must find the right leaf,” Jonathan said, quietly, in his right-side voice. “Have you found the right leaf?” Jonathan asked, quietly, in his left-side voice. I heard both voices at once: each whispering and slithering around/behind/under/over/through the other. This was (and always will be) the most infuriatingly mysterious element of life in Escherelm. The human organism is amazingly flexible, amazingly adaptable, amazingly mutable. Jonathan, a young musician at home on the plane commonly recognized as Congruity-248 is an example of this stunning evolutionary development. He is one person. One young man with certain musical skills and a friendly, somewhat shy temperament. He speaks with two voices: a declarative voice, as heard by the right ear, and an inquisitory voice, as heard by the left ear. Declaration and Inquisition occur simultaneously! Both are controlled by a single mind, though Jonathan admits that he’s right-voice dominant, despite his left-voice accent. I’ve known Jonathan for years. We are friends. He finds some amusement in the fact that I’m an anthropologist. “We’re such boring people,” I heard him say, with my right ear. “Are we really that interesting?” I heard him ask, with my left ear. He’d only spoken once. Who built the world? Why? I don’t know. Don’t I know? ** As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting…and I hope you’ve enjoyed this little something caused by a photographer’s desire to explore M.C. Escher’s world as depicted in his lithograph: “Relativity.” (There’s a full story behind this image…it’ll hit the Writer’s Gallery when its finished.)