Free wheels! They’re the breezes’ best exegete.

Let’s express these breezes. There’s the self-engendered tempest; then there’s the dependent breeze. Tempests, heedless essences, feed themselves when the terrene sphere refreshes them. Les sphères célestes engrenées. Dependent breezes need the free wheelers. We’re the begetters, we engender them: the less fleet the wheel-speed, the less severe the breeze; yet when we exceed the preferred speed, we get the level three breeze, even the level seven!

The free wheeler gets the terrene tempest between the eyes. Then we need help, we need selflessness, else we’re helpless. When cheeks, teeth, temples feel Sweden’s entrenched vehemence (needn’t be Sweden’s: Glenshee’s, then), seek the lee, be sheltered. Let the well-fettled helpmeet precede! Be the wee geezer, bent treble, even. Be the stern-keeper, the reverse end. Defer the test. Then when he veers, when he steers elsewhere, when he cedes the precedence... well then, lengthen, strengthen! Press the red steel levers, exert the legs, let the kettle effervesce!

(De l’Engleterre)