…of t’s and dotting i’s is the harder part of seeing fiction in reality. How much of what we thought we saw is real?
Solid cubes of rooms can spin and twirl with scotch, or jump and twitch with fever–I remember seeing both. Eyes wide open like a mouth feeding on the food of images, swallowing with a blink and digesting in the mind to make it something different. Content turned to fluid, more nutritious, unrecognizable.
Reality crosses borders, changes with perception, ages in the storehouse of our memory into fine wine or vinegar; never needing to remain a grape.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology