Panting red faced women huddle in a corner. They hiss horrible secrets to one another and leap in sick convulsions. But this is only a single corner.
In another there is a lonesome boy. He is lonesome for a number of reasons, none of which are entirely clear to him.
In yet another corner sits a herd of glimmering buffalo. They chew cud and look lazy. Hey buffalo, someone yells from the center of the room, but then can think of nothing else to yell.
There are other corners with other things and other people in it as well. One corner just has a ball of yarn in it. Another has wrapped itself up in thick wooly blankets and makes shuddering noises whenever anyone passes. Another is barren.
There is also, more or less, a center. There are things and people there too.
In another there is a lonesome boy. He is lonesome for a number of reasons, none of which are entirely clear to him.
In yet another corner sits a herd of glimmering buffalo. They chew cud and look lazy. Hey buffalo, someone yells from the center of the room, but then can think of nothing else to yell.
There are other corners with other things and other people in it as well. One corner just has a ball of yarn in it. Another has wrapped itself up in thick wooly blankets and makes shuddering noises whenever anyone passes. Another is barren.
There is also, more or less, a center. There are things and people there too.
No comments:
Post a Comment