Scene opens. We see a big, big city. Thousands of buildings reaching up the cold grey sky and many cars all over the wide streets roading nowhere, but still, no sign of life. They're all empty. It's all desertic. Maybe desertic isn't the right word. It's all hollow. Almost hollow. There is although an old lady sitting on a bench. She's at the fall of her life and her hair is now completely white, whitening. We see now the narrator who no longer can be called so, 'cause the He just lost its sense. Seems like he hasn't been there for a while. Seems like "he" hasn't been there for a lifetime, I tells you. Since the times pennies had bumblebees on it. "Gimme five bees", you'd say. But that's not important. The really important part is what the old lady has to say to the narrator. Maybe not exactly "to" him. Maybe just for herself, maybe her sense is now also far gone. "We're the last earthlings", she says. "We're the last trace of Earth's disease, that now, at last, is cured. Oh, my dear, it was terrible... We've been beaten. No come back." sigh. "You should go home now. Go home, honey, and wait for none." sigh. Scene closes. Pops the question.
Why does everything I do always seem so incomplete?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 17 Aug 2006 22:40 (UTC)We see a big, big city.
Thousands of buildings reaching up the cold grey sky and many cars all over the wide streets roading nowhere, but still, no sign of life. They're all empty. It's all desertic.
Maybe desertic isn't the right word.
It's all hollow.
Almost hollow.
There is although an old lady sitting on a bench. She's at the fall of her life and her hair is now completely white, whitening. We see now the narrator who no longer can be called so, 'cause the He just lost its sense.
Seems like he hasn't been there for a while. Seems like "he" hasn't been there for a lifetime, I tells you. Since the times pennies had bumblebees on it. "Gimme five bees", you'd say. But that's not important. The really important part is what the old lady has to say to the narrator. Maybe not exactly "to" him. Maybe just for herself, maybe her sense is now also far gone. "We're the last earthlings", she says. "We're the last trace of Earth's disease, that now, at last, is cured. Oh, my dear, it was terrible... We've been beaten. No come back." sigh. "You should go home now. Go home, honey, and wait for none." sigh.
Scene closes.
Pops the question.
Why does everything I do always seem so incomplete?
(and When will I learn to hide my shame?)