Sir John-a-Lot nestled his dogged feet into the misting heather and glared at the rolling sea. His road-beaten Volvo, its clouded mirrors reflecting the dying bonfires of the great hills above, was now sufficiently full of unleaded gasoline. Having recently freed the weeds of his land, he fancied himself among the most worthy heads of all the heads in the time of the Popes of Avignon. He rejoiced. The sun grinned.
Eventually, Sir John was approached by a friendly cat called Morgan Girl. In a corner of his weary mind, Sir John chewed a few lines of Hölderlin.
"Ein wilder Hügel aber stehet über dem Abhang / Meiner Gärten. Kirschenbäume. Scharfer Odem / aber wehet / Um die Löcher des Felses. Allda bin ich / Alles miteinander. Wunderbar / Aber über / Quellen beuget schlank / Ein Nußbaum und ... sich. Beere, wie Korall / Hängen an dem Strauche / über Röhren von Holz, / Aus denen / Ursprünglich aus Korn, nun aber zu gestehen, befestigter / Gesang von Blumen als..." ...
Sir John soon recalled that he could not speak, nor understand, German.
The little cat, taking a level of pity at this, humbly translated. Sir John listened intently.
The pair smiled for several moments.
Finally, bowing, Sir John thanked the cat and departed from the seaside. The cat rolled in the heather. Sir John was struck by melancholy.
...
Sir John happened upon a lowly roadside inn. Its disrepair notwithstanding, he nonetheless recognized a massive 'EST!' scrawled with violet glitter paint above its moss-etched door: this inn was celebrated by the boozy scouts of the Pope of Avignon!
Inside, Sir John noticed Twin Peaks: The Return (2017) on an adjacent magnet-blurred television. Sir John realized that, in this time of this great Pope and unlike today, television was not in fact television, but merely just events continuous with the rest of life. Sir John then knew that with freed weeds must come liberated music.
It was this, and not necessarily the cat nor the heather nor the Volvo nor the Lynch limited series nor the great sea, that led Sir John into the thicket, beyond the heather, in that time of the Pope of Avignon.