audrey
I can't figure out what I'm doing here. I stare at the teacher. I stare at the board. The numbers are all twisting into a visual cacophony and the lecture is failing to rise about the machine whine in my ears.
I watched through the heavy binoculars the rush of meat and muscle pour through the valley; grey-brown coats rippling with the exchange of sinew to sinew.
"A beauty isn't it," the tour guide remark from beneath his bushy, red mustache, "nature and her uncanny power."
The lines don't match up. I stare from the scene to my paper. No. Something is off. I erase and erase but it's all out of context, all off scale. Grotesque and wild and unreal.
Ahoy! Come along my friend. We have places to be. People to see. Things to feel. Things to learn yet, so we must go. Far away. As far as we can get, as wide as we can get. And then maybe we will be enough.
What the hell? I know, it's a bigger question than it seems. I wish I had an answer, but all I have is more questions. You don't want to hear them, it'll only complicate things. And maybe that's the terrible part, maybe that's the torture. What the hell? We will never know.
The radio crackles with the far away buzz. Sad is it were, this buzzing, incoherent noise, but sadder still whatever lay beneath it. Whatever is going said but unheard, whatever exist beneath the radio's deafening crackle, is lost forever. I will never know, can never know. And that is what is most heartbreaking of all.