30 January 2012

Half-way through the newspaper, the garden encroaches, a slow, bursting flood of green and red and yellow. He keeps his eyes intent upon the pages, but his grip is tight. As the clearing shrinks, his long beard will grow whiter as the pages grow yellow, and when the dark, dense thicket closes over him, he will finish the last page, fold the paper in half, add it to the stack and lay his head upon it once again.

2 Responses to 30 January 2012

  1. dreynardine says:

    You’re on a roll my good sir! Superb work.

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