yodjtuesday
jazz festivals. lots of wine spilt on snazzy snappy shirts, flannel, ironic hipster bullshit. do they even enjoy it? or do they torture themselves for the sake of cool?
he stood up and looked around the unfamiliar room, searching his memory for any fragment that might jog his thoughts on what happened that fateful night 10 years ago. he was right there, but just couldnt make the connection.
i am delighted to meet you sir.
as you should be. now what do we have here?
well, it seems to be an animal of some sort sir.
obviously decomposing. how long ago did you find it?
fences. birds on fences. cows behind fences. kids climbing over fences. getting shocked by the five-star electric fences. leaping back from fences. falling in cow shit.
she stood at the corner of the stone patteo, facing out toward the court yard. the woman clothed in black robes came up behind her silently.