The sounds reach into the outer cave, echoing from the walls and forming into words: We, You, I, Community, No, Yes, Perhaps, Arm, Leg, tomato, tomato.
A consensus on the course of action is reached, at least with pain as interpretant. A break in the endless chain of signifying signs in practical communication. And that goes for: foxes, trolls, elves, babies and officials. For all bodyhavers, when, after a quickly executed motion, one foot stops abruptly, at jeans and periosteum.
A basis for an understanding within varying and alteritous character strings, in the indisputability of our bodies in this split world. Is the smallest common denominator the kick in the shins?