s e r i e s | ( i n a f a r a w a y l a n d )
ink, poster paint, and typed text on notebook paper on MDF board
sixteen drawings
5" x 8"
and so they waited, and so they held their ground. a bird sang somewhere out of sight. the sun went down.
THE END. |
"then we'll move," he said, "the house closer to the lake. or move the lake closer to the house. now come on back inside."
THE END. |
"we'll keep what we want to," he said. "or - at any rate - we'll keep what we can."
THE END |
"why?" he said, "why? because no-one puts that much give into a situation unless they want that give." and then he looked around at the walls again, and shook his head, and sat back down.
THE END |
no, he wasn't drunk. but now it was late. or was it early yet? either way, he would head up to bed. it was clear that no-one was going to remember much in the morning.
THE END. |
but when he went back to the old story, the old story was gone.
THE END. |
everyone had meant well, as always. and yet. he was too tired to think about it any longer. you could stay up all night, thinking. it would never be enough.
THE END. |
not all detours are worth taking. and sometimes a can-opener is just a can-opener.
THE END. |
"a man becomes what he does," he said to no-one in particular. and stretching his arm out to the railing, he ran his arm along the bars.
THE END. |
the grateful and the unconcerned, the dreaming and the wide-awake, all making their own little exchanges.
THE END |
he listened closely, and wrote down what he understood. this way was easier. and the more stories he told, the more stories there were.
THE END. |
"you're one crazy bastard," he says, "you know that?" the boy keeps looking down at his hands. "alright, then after work tomorrow we'll go down to the river and check that it's still there."
THE END. |
the boy in the red shorts smiled. "take me as far as you're going," he said, "and i'll walk the rest of the way."
THE END. |
"...not, i'm sure, our only disagreement with life," he said, "and also not, i hope, our last night on earth."
THE END. |
and turning and catching sight of himself in the mirror at the foot of the stairs, he saw just what it was he had lost.
THE END. |
the clouds had all blown over. the boys were still sitting on the rocks. the tide was coming in.
THE END. |