Tuesday, June 17, 2008

The Sculptor

She was a sculptor. Today she was receiving a degree which stated as much. Her parents came. They cheered, then left to take their daughter home.

At home she saw various objects she had never seen before. This is my home, she thought. Why don’t I recognize these things?

For many months she stayed inside of her home wondering what to sculpt. Should I make a feather? she asked herself. Or a bowtie? She didn’t make either.

One day her mother and father came downstairs to her bedroom. They knocked on her door and she said Come in. They did. A long pause ensued.

What are you going to sculpt? the mother asked timorously.

A feather maybe. Or a bowtie.

The father nodded his head. Oh good, he said. Oh yes very good.

The mother and father then left their daughter's room.



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