Special opportunities arise, sometimes, from within the system, and don't seem to make much sense, or be useful, till you flex them. I came across a broken pen, that bled black ink into an official form; which I folded and unfolded into an accidental Rorschach. I could see a sort of bat, carrying something in its claws, maybe food, a scraggy insect, held tight (and just about covering a date: the tax form deadline). So must have happened with a first finger, absurd, pointless, misdirected, and likely born long before, a proper nose to pick in. But a rap and a tippy, tip, tap, tap and four more would soon emerge, looking desperately for a forehead, to surprise with a slap: "Aha!".