The Best Thing I’ve Heard All Day

A scene from my Tuesday afternoon:

“Teacher look at my bruise on my leg,” the chubby ginger boy said, pointing to a moderate bruise.

“Owch. That looks like it hurt,” said teacher distractedly, trying to corral children into a line.

“It’s OK. I can still dance,” the boy assured her and proceeded to dance to his place in line, twirling and spinning, feeling the music inside his head.

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About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on April 24, 2012, in Author, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Thank God for innocent children.

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