In blue sky, a frog floating. Then white sky, then cloudy sky, then sunset. Darkness. A man conducts a chorus: Show me where you are with your hands. They sing fa, they sing fa re fa fa re. Dirt embedded in jagged nails, a small hand with one torn cuticle. An exoskeleton of a spider, a spider. A horse, a bat, a dead bat. There is no story here, only elements of stories. There is no subject, only subjects. Ta-ta ta-ti-ta-ti, ta-ta ta-ti-ta-ti, ta-ti ta-ti ta ta-ti, ta-ti ta-ti ta ta-ti, ta ta-ti, ta ta-ti, ta-ti-ta-ti-ta-ta-ti, ta-ti-ta-ti-ta-ta-ti. A story is a moral efficiency, a story is a way of making sense. When the train you’re on is standing still and the one next to you starts to move is not a story. Bees. Bees coming out of a hole. A bird with a mechanical neck. Dogs bark from a second-story window. A snake drinks. A frog shits. Pig's snout.
There is a large house and a black dog and a dead squirrel. Make sure everybody in your picture has hands and feet. These images are linked in time. A child’s game. What is a child's game? Add. One thing after another after another after another, some times back again. Creatures characters beings stare out across a divide. Divide. Hair. Hair on lip, hair on chin, black curling hairs on fingers. It is a time before the time. Wet red leaves are dripping, a girl sings Rose rose rose red. Will I ever--