Aug. 23rd, 2003

The glass shall be thirst and the thirst shall be glass.
"We black bean marauders slipped out of the darkness of the bowl and surrounded the chips, so rich with their salt crystals in their warm basket, but ah god they were waiting, prepared, knowledgable of the ways of rice and cheese and able to turn it to their advantage. I was but a baby bean, and as a lone beanling i was the only survivor. I swore, swore that always i would remember that candle-lit night that took my clan from me. I was young, the hot chili oils of vengeance burning on my skin. For many seasons i hunted for that night, and for many seasons it eluded me. But i found it, found it. Yes."

Here, the wizened old bean grew quiet for a moment, then spoke again. "Looking on it, that poor pitiful night... I knew that it had suffered more than I. That I was a child to it. It sang me to sleep that night, tho I didn't recognize it at the time...
Dom melle noi yeh
Allam mei   Allam yeh
Dom ala gelinde
Olam yeh gallom


eleriah / iwadoj

February 2005

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