A woman stands in a field hanging sheets from a line. Her skirts billow around her, flexible and wide. She pushes them down and reaches into her basket. She pulls out a small, stiff square -- a puzzle -- and clips it to the line. Improbably, the puzzle holds, although now the cracks begin to show. The pieces strain downward. For a moment, sunlight bursts between them. Bending, slanting, light shoots through the cracks and glances out across the field at every angle. The woman squints and shades her eyes. She thinks to herself, this is my mind, but then the bottom drops. The light falls. The puzzle crumbles, so she picks up her basket and moves farther down the line.
Great imagery!
ReplyDeleteI was looking at my new copy of Glimmer Train, and on the back they print excerpts from each story in the current issue. Here's the excerpt from an interview with Pinckney Benedict (i havent read the piece yet so i'm not sure who he is, but here's the quote): "I don't have to make my living, at least in any direct way, from my writing, and so my writing can be exactly what I want it to be. It can look exactly the way I want it to look. It can look exactly like the inside of my skull." And that quote made me think of this piece, and of you. I love when you write like this -- play with this kind of imagery -- and put it out there for us to enjoy. Because I really do -- enjoy it. I think you're brave and talented and wonderful. I hope you know that.
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