Sounds like rhizome humor, which suggests that there is no unified record of the potato within time (no history) or in mythology (no story with any pronouns) . . . no ritual rhythm, no god or goddess, no spells that would appear on anyone's character sheet. Just a reservoir of calories reproducing in secret in the neglected corners of the field, a weed. This is unspeakable in conventional Glorantha where every phenomenon has a soul that can be communicated with if you learn its narrative. T
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