|
fyn gula
|
"i wonder if you know who nimbia would be from the wizard of oz?" the old woman asked copello, breaking a silence that was interrupted by his off key humming of a system of a down tune. copello had also been studying miniscule tiger bees that were sucking the sweat on his bare arms. they were weightless. he couldn't even feel them.
"excuse me?" he asked her, as if she may have said something to him. or was it someone else? he let one bee land on his fingertip. he didn't hear a fucking word she said.
"i'm talking to you," she said, slightly irritated. she threw a book into his lap. it was written and illustrated by helin. copello looked at the cover. there was a drawing of seven children running through a field of queen anne's lace and black-eyed susan. there was azure blue sky with streaks of cream
white clouds and the brightness of a present sun. two words were scrawled with thick black crayon pushed too hard. the "R" was backwards.
it read: marox pass
although it resembled the journal she made back at nylem's landing, this book was extraordinary. (anything a child makes is art in its most original, fragile state) where most books have the substance of thought and vision placed into them over time and are reproduced as a facsimile of the original image, this book was being created as it was held in the hands.
"how did you get this?" copello asked, and he knew he was holding something rare, valuable, and supernatural like the shroud of turin. it had the pristine, ethereal quality of something that could only come from rynomari, that land of uncompromised truth and hard fought happiness.
"it's good to ask questions," the old woman said, "but sometimes you will not be given the answer. turn to page sixteen."
copello flipped the pages to the requested number. it was a drawing of a lion done in caran d'ache watercolour crayon. it had the face of nimbia and written underneath it said, "yooth."
"youth?" copello asked.
"yes," the old woman said. "turn back a page."
he did. there was a picture of maylay as the tin man with the words, "good hart."
"oops, she forgot the "e." copello laughed and continued turning the pages back. he saw anton as the scarecrow with a big question mark underneath.
"not because she doesn't know," the old woman said. "because he doesn't know yet." copello nodded in easy understanding. on another page was the old woman as dorothy with the siamese cats mating.
underneath them was a circle with a piece of shutter inside and a diagonal line going through it.
|
010907
|
