To cut a tree on a green moon

From the diary of Christopher Columbus, October 15, 1492: "And deviated from the land by two lombard shots, there is in all these islands so much depth that one cannot reach it. These islands are very green and fertile and have very sweet airs, and there may be many things that I do not know, because I do not want to stop to go through many islands to find gold". They had only been on land for four days. The gold never existed. It is only possible to suppose the sweetness of the air. The islands are still green. Returning to that well-remembered phrase, perhaps it could be thought that what cannot be talked about is not only the warning of a perceived border of the verbalizable, but also the disquieting disfigurement of certain limits that occur behind it. Or several. Perhaps all of them.