Traductio (tra-duk’-ti-o): Repeating the same word variously throughout a sentence or thought. Some authorities restrict traductio further to mean repeating the same word but with a different meaning (see ploce, antanaclasis, and diaphora), or in a different form (polyptoton). If the repeated word occurs in parallel fashion at the beginnings of phrases or clauses, it becomes anaphora; at the endings of phrases or clauses, epistrophe.
My couch was spinning like a compass under a magnet. North, south, east, west over and over, not pausing, spinning, spinning, spinning. I had a crayon in each ear. My ears felt warm and alive. My ears were buzzing like the buzzer I used to have instead of a doorbell. I tried to stand up. I felt like an accordion. I collapsed back on the couch. The couch began to vibrate like a cheap coin operated motel bed. “The couch will be my tomb,” I thought as I faded into the big fat cushion. But, the deeper I sank, the better I felt. I pulled the crayons out of my ears, against the advice of my favorite FOX truth caster, Tucker Carlson, who was standing there, sort of hovering, with his arms crossed and a smug frat boy look on his face. Poof! No crayons, no Tucker. Why did I ever listen to him? I see now it was like taking advice from a talking urinal.
My dizziness was subsiding when my couch lifted about a foot off the floor. I gripped the cushion and we started to go higher. As we were about to slam into the ceiling, we melted through it, the attic, and the roof of the house. With no warning we swooped down and the couch dumped me on the front lawn. Then my couch took off, it broke the sound barrier, exploded, and burned up in a ball of fire, like a meteor entering the atmosphere.
I felt great sitting there on the lawn in my sweats. I knew I was done being hounded by Tucker Carlson and the terrible dizziness I experienced, and the stupid things I did, when I listened to him and believed what he said,
I started listening to NPR and everything started to make sense. I felt like I had been saved by my couch and my willingness to pull the crayons out of my ears.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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