The show. Let the show begin. Welcome to the show. Is this all a show? A stage…where we are actors? And do I have a specific role to play, or is it all MY play? A world of my creating where I suddenly wake up and realize my choices open up new options—my choices set the stage for a new scene, a new adventure—or has the play already be
kajsa
the guard posted at the central tower of the panopticon clocks out at 7pm. boris gives him the usual wordless grunt when they swap out. the sky is already a dim blue when he gets to the bus stop. he sits near the back and watches two young girls laugh loudly over something on their phone for a bit, then looks at the little specks of streetlights going by. in the comfort of his home he looks at himself in the mirror. his calves and thighs and shoulders burn from the long hours of dancing. one day he will make it out of the tower. one day someone will see him. and they’ll understand, through the movements of his body, the things he wants to but cannot express in words. they’ll see his body and his soul.
Show me what you love, the $5 flower whose scent greets you as you step through the door, dump all your bags, shrug off your coat, and slump to untie your shoes, pull your socks off, and wiggle your toes in the carpet.
“I want to show you something,” my brother said excitedly as he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his room.
My feet tripped over each other as he yanked me down the hall, causing my wrist to slip from his hand and my shoulder from its socket.
I screamed.
Brothers…
Dazzling sparkles danced wildly in his eyes, wonder sparked as art played out before him. There was only one thought amongst the awe: How can I be one of them?
She had put on new clothes to go out. She passed her old friends who were standing in the cold, as she went up to the front of the line. “She looks good,” Sally said. “Look at those clothes.” Martha said, “Don’t believe the clothes. She’s as desperate as he rest of us, but she wants to show off. She’ll be back at the factory in the morning.
chanpheng
The show started exactly one minute late, which was unnoticed by everybody except a lone fan in the back, who gasped in shock.
The show. Let the show begin. Welcome to the show. Is this all a show? A stage…where we are actors? And do I have a specific role to play, or is it all MY play? A world of my creating where I suddenly wake up and realize my choices open up new options—my choices set the stage for a new scene, a new adventure—or has the play already be
the guard posted at the central tower of the panopticon clocks out at 7pm. boris gives him the usual wordless grunt when they swap out. the sky is already a dim blue when he gets to the bus stop. he sits near the back and watches two young girls laugh loudly over something on their phone for a bit, then looks at the little specks of streetlights going by. in the comfort of his home he looks at himself in the mirror. his calves and thighs and shoulders burn from the long hours of dancing. one day he will make it out of the tower. one day someone will see him. and they’ll understand, through the movements of his body, the things he wants to but cannot express in words. they’ll see his body and his soul.
Show me what you love, the $5 flower whose scent greets you as you step through the door, dump all your bags, shrug off your coat, and slump to untie your shoes, pull your socks off, and wiggle your toes in the carpet.
“I want to show you something,” my brother said excitedly as he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his room.
My feet tripped over each other as he yanked me down the hall, causing my wrist to slip from his hand and my shoulder from its socket.
I screamed.
Brothers…
Dazzling sparkles danced wildly in his eyes, wonder sparked as art played out before him. There was only one thought amongst the awe: How can I be one of them?
She had put on new clothes to go out. She passed her old friends who were standing in the cold, as she went up to the front of the line. “She looks good,” Sally said. “Look at those clothes.” Martha said, “Don’t believe the clothes. She’s as desperate as he rest of us, but she wants to show off. She’ll be back at the factory in the morning.
The show started exactly one minute late, which was unnoticed by everybody except a lone fan in the back, who gasped in shock.