Frosting another morning leading up to the impending season of winter, the chill of the eyeballs fell down toward the glob of grey on the fake grass in the backyard. Days and weeks prior, the glob was a sickly sight of a feral kitten with no eyelids whatsoever. Matted and mangy, the fur was extremely spotty and often clumped like a sign of eternal dampness. Effort gradually faded from its legs and indeed conviction to move out of the way of falling banana peels and gusts of wind. Today it was totally diminished. There, in a groove well-worn from tyre tracks, it lay silent and unmoving. Dead to the world and dead to itself. Left more as a protest against the unseeing eye of the driver than anything beyond the correct disposal, it was run over on the return that would signal the end of another day.
Thursday, 27 May 2004
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Elemunk scrambles the loose connections bouncing about the mind of Soon Van.
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