Field Trip

Back when I was into breeding orangutans I had this vision of a meadow of honey, an indication that it was time to move to a beachy location and bury the tools or toss them to sea if I could stand to look at it long enough.


As the moss garden began to overtake the barrels in the courtyard, another lutist jumped off the balcony. For the eggs had reinvented the original book.


Light accumulated in the frog pond. The portal began to shrink. Another translucent material effaced itself, milky shadows left lapping at the steps.