Intimation: Hinting at a meaning but not stating it explicitly.
I was listening to my old Bob Dylan records. The song I was listening to said, among other things, “The answer my friend is blown’ in the wind.” That’s how Dylan responded to the string of questions leading up to “Blown’ in the wind.” What about a hurricane or tornado. What kind of answers are blowin’ in those kinds of winds? They can kill you. So, there’s something potentially lethal in looking for answers in the wind. You should probably just sit inside and let the answers blow away, knocking down a couple of trees as they go. Do you get it? Do you get what I’m telling you?
Ok, I’ll tell you if you haven’t gotten it yet: answers are dangerous. They can ruin your life. I was really happy until I started looking for answers. I was frustrated. I couldn’t sleep. I lost my friends. I lost more socks than usual and I thought my girlfriend moved out of the United States so she could get away from me “forever.” I haven’t seen her for five years and I’m still asking “Why?”
But, I’ve invented a device to help me get answers. It is a giant ceiling fan. I call it “John’s Behemoth Fan.” It is mounted over my bed and has 8-foot blades. I use it to look for answers blowin’ in the wind. I put on my pajamas, lay on my bed and use the remote to flick the fan to “Gale.” The wind blows 80 MPH and is supposed to spit out answers to my questions. I keep asking it where my girlfriend is. It makes a sound like “Reykjavík.” I’m not sure if Reykjavík is just a squeaking sound. I’m going to lubricate the fan’s shaft this afternoon and see if it still makes a wind that sounds like Reykjavík. I keep wondering why my girlfriend would be in Iceland, but if the answer’s blowin’ in the wind, it’s likely that’s where she is.
POSTSCRIPT
He lubed the fan and it still said “Reykjavík” when he turned it on. He dropped all his other questions and prepared to fly to Reykjavík. He brought his small battery operated hand held fan. He believed that when he was in close proximity to an answer its meager wind would pull him through.
Shortly after arriving, he got caught in one of the gale-force winds the Iceland is known for. He almost had the answer when he was blown off a cliff and died on the rocks below.
His former girlfriend was living in Portland, Oregon where she sold imported clothing. One of her top products was “66 Degrees North” clothing imported from Iceland.
Her shop was called “Windbreakers.”
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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