nytrist
Her mouth dropped, then clamped shut. It was a lie. What he said didn't happen. Obviously, transparently, undeniably wrong. So she told him to shut up.
It was the chaos, disorder that truly excited her. Watching all the ways that the little one would try to make meaning out of the meaningless. And invariably they could. They gave such meaning and order to things that she could never imagine, and so gave meaning and order to her.
If the reflection is the same but mirrored backwards, that must mean that in this world, all things good are bad, and things bad are good. We're an upside people.
A refraction of a reflection. That's what the half formed thought was. She sighed and put down her pen. It seemed the whole world was just a reflection of things that her mind was trying to understand, but where was the original, and what was it being reflected on?
Streams, screams, rotates and twists. Bathes, saturates, drowns and persists. Warms, heats, fires and soothes, burns, chills, grows and removes. Sunlight life and death
She saw him walking back long before he saw her. His head was down and though she already knew, she asked anyway.
'Well, how did it fare?'. She waited. He just shook his head. And that was answer enough. There would be no welfare for them this cold, cruel winter.
informed doesn't mean information is correct. She pauses. Gun cocked towards the head of another woman. She is calm. The woman in front of her, when she should be trembling. She thinks. The woman should be shocked, worried, screaming, anything. That is the body's response. But she's not. A memory slinks to the surface. And she remembers, the sigh and murmur under her breathe. 'finally'. Was she informed? Then she hears the sirens. It appears so.
Dashing or to do a dash.
The ones who are defined by what they aren't. The ones that are unknown, and fill the dystopian novels with odd, strange people to make it dystopian and frightening. Or perhaps they are the ones that look like us, pretend to be us but whom we know aren't us, and never will be. We think they'll never be they're the others. But really, it's because there's no us in the first place.
the sea, the servant, the stupidity of imagining the sea is a servant. Or perhaps it's maiden, not maid. The stupidity of imagining the sea is male or female when it contains both, and much much more.
'But it's how we understand things' he said.
'Then we need to change our way of understanding'. she said
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