the great god pan is dead.
the consequences of sublimated impulses.
terrany deposes all, great & small, eventually.
when that what stops time is itself stopped, all is unbridled.
i can’t hold a minute. it’s trashed before i began. girl turning slowly halfway across the room, the soft folds of her moving billows tingles on the skin. how strange to no longer be tuned to a dead channel. truth is, experience simply cannot be shared. it can’t. no matter how extraordinary. dead channel as bottom line, begetting another line. billiards. cue the cue ball. stagger towards her. a god without questions cannot question why.
the dark red horse…
it was owned by a girl who had worked very hard to buy this dark red horse and she loved it very much. she lived with her poor father who was not kindly or warm, a petty and jealous man even. he wanted to sell the horse, almost as much for the appearance it was his horse as much as for the money they needed to eat on. his daughter, the legal owner, kept refusing. winter approached and money was scarcer than ever, as was even grass for the horse to eat in lieu of hay. the man and his daughter were hungry too, but the man had so pestered his daughter about the horse that it was all she had to hold her heart and she kept refusing to sell it. finally, one day, he just up and killed it -and butchered it for them to eat.
…any number of denouement endings occur to me here, but the story’s really finished: to save some things one loves, one has to let them go. she held onto the horse too much, for the father held her not at all. shit happens this way…
foreshadowing happens in life and perhaps sometimes we miss it, loving horses that are dark and red.