That’s very interesting. I kind of had my breath held while you were describing the movement you spotted there. I wish I could see that too. I don’t know why that specific part was hidden from my vision, what does that mean? Probably nothing either.
About the tribe and cosmology, I looked it up and actually found it, ibhog. I’m so scared now. This must be how you felt the moment you found it. It’s not Asian btw, and they’re not extinct (yet). They’re African and they’re called the Jarawas. They’re very primordial, and their language is very weird. Let me copy here the exact text that mentioned the moon:
The taape or moon is differentiated on basis of its size and appearance; like taape-epadiwaiya (very small moon), ehaba-hutu-thame (big moon) and ehaba-tuhuma (full moon). Complete disappearance of the moon is called nademame. Rise and fall of the level of sea and its waves depend on appearance of moon, the Jarawas relate it with high tide (chakthe) and low tide (chigi-a).
Also you see, three phases were identified here, while they’re two in another document that I also found. I have to admit you mentioning cosmology pretty much did the search job for me in that sea of results on google.
So that’s that. Now how can I word out that specific feeling? The one you get when you find something you’ve been very much looking for, but then you have no idea what to actually do with it. After one’s curiosity is sated, there’s nothing much to do, I suppose.
I’ve heard before that in order to interpret a vision, you have to carefully regard the status of its bearer around the time they had it. Maybe something in our lives was taking place, the same thing maybe for both of us that would incite such a mystifying thing.
I’m sorry for the unfortunate events that have made you stop writing. If it makes it any easier and also to answer your question: I don’t write anywhere. Sometimes I scribble down notes that I call journal entries, but they’re too scattered to hold any position in the world of prose, which brings me to your compliments; thank you, I sincerely appreciate them, but I still stand my ground: you are the writer, not me. How else could have this started, if it wasn’t for what you wrote the last years?
I’m afraid me trying to tell you why I started such a peculiar communication would still need some time, all with me as ‘N.’, the young damsel who’s so frustrated with this world, and with her own pitiful self. You would think I’m inviting you to empathize, but I’m sure you already are. Maybe we can just go on a while with our letters, until Godsend gifts of expression would endow me. Maybe that would be my ‘Ehaba’. I’m sure it crossed your mind how ‘Heba’ in Arabic can be a linguistic relative to ‘Ehaba’, and ‘Heba’ in Arabic means a gift. I’m smart, see. That’s the best Arabic sport I can exercise.
Well, I admit the order in which I got to narrate the events in my letter is not obvious. I assure you that is how feisty the accounts are in my mind as I try to summon them. Also, when I had decided to send a letter that started months ago, and as I ventured to introduce it, somehow both letter and introduction married themselves into vague story. So yes, I actually had the vision three months ago, but decided to fly with it a sea for you.
You have not told me what ‘ibhog’ meant, and, can you send me your book please? I’d much want to have a copy of your writings.