The City
The city is the mirror of the maze of the self.
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The city is the mirror of the maze of the self.
November 11, 2007
The orbiter had left its scar decades before, soon after the lid came down. He sat in the broad clearing surrounded by a halo of the white butterflies that seemed to thrive for no reason at that particular spot, along with the dragonflies. They were like white leaves or a snowy autumn; off to one side two children were playing on a fallen… [Read more…]
November 10, 2007
He was sitting facing the rear. He was staring into the panel of the rearward Plexiglas window. In the black of the evening outside people were reflected behind him. Two old women sitting side by side, and - about seven feet – three seats – back - a young girl staring vacantly at the ceiling. On a side seat sat a student-type with… [Read more…]
November 9, 2007
On the wall hung a picture. It was a photo of Mars, a planet in the Solar system. It was taken about a foot above the ground and showed apparently an undulating plain of sand encircling the rim of a crater. He took that on trust. You couldn’t really tell what you were looking at just by… [Read more…]
November 9, 2007
Turning to the keyboard again he resumed typing. I should explain, I mean ‘typing’ not typing because he preferred that (as a lot of people still do secretly) to the mere act of telepathy which in his experience was inexplicably tiring; the process of staring into space for long periods and ‘thinking’ the words perhaps… [Read more…]
November 9, 2007
Looking across the sparse forest on the long sloping rise to the horizon, to the east, he realised there must be a road that topped a hill, because periodically, in the red and grey twilight, a single sustained gleam would appear and then disappear: the headlights of a car or lorry. He wondered why he had never noticed… [Read more…]
January 30, 2008
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