... the historical documentary of our current political state:Starship Troopers?
MARK.
In the corner of the room there were postcards of highway scenes; dark expanses of asphalt under stars and moons, but no sun. Every once in a while, in one of the postcards, there would be a street light to give the impression that the roads were in use.
All the postcards were blank, except for one that said "see you at the party!". There was no address on it, just a little drawing of a sunflower where the sender information should have been.
When I left the room, I stacked up all the postcards and left the one with writing on it to the side for the next person to find more easily.
Discuss.
The only time we hear words from his mouth is when we sit near to him during sunset. The sun slowly wraps his face in sheets of glowing stories that speak of cosmic darkness and her children.
Of the beginning of it all.
The sheets hang off his body, til they touch the driftwood on his back, spreading strange shadows across the sand to his side, causing him to look and mumble, "what a strange looking bird."
And if we think of shadows as a layer of obfuscation, then things like direct sunlight are just really bright shadows; they are layers that hide a structure that can only be seen at a certain brightness. Maybe there’s something to the idea that you have to shine the right flashlight into the cave to find the bat you are looking for.
... you're wiping your face with a towel while wearing a suit, you're only bringing attention to the rivers of sweat below your neckline.