It's Sunday. and Sunday means Game!
May. 25th, 2003 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cpolkA Wall
"Do you like it?" she asked, and wound my fingers around a glass of Reisling. I sipped, felt the sweet pure grape taste unfold into a note of burnt cherries, a touch of violets, finishing dry enough to make my tongue ache as I stared at her wall:
Curled up imperfect edges of cheap paper under the ochre and whitewash she'd painted, splashed with white spirit, sponged with cheesecloth. she'd gripped the bubbling edges of the posters and produce stand ads and yanked them down, letting the square and perfect typset ideographs speak:
"The Blessed Country of Heaven is beautiful. Our hearts swell with industry. Lucky are we to live today."
(and in tiny marks splashed by blood red signature wax: "paid for by the international economic syndicate")
A poster advertising oranges for 39 HKD a box - showing beneath it was the same poster with a price of six. a news article about the syndicate saving the ordinary citizen from rebels lay next to a call for a peaceful meeting in the park dated the day before.
The deepest layers were love poetry, old stories of Monkey and the emperor,letters from sons who left the Middle kingdom to mothers back home. Barely any of those showed through.
"It's Marvelous," I said. It was marvelous. It would also land her in rehabilitiation if the wrong eyes saw it.
"Do you like it?" she asked, and wound my fingers around a glass of Reisling. I sipped, felt the sweet pure grape taste unfold into a note of burnt cherries, a touch of violets, finishing dry enough to make my tongue ache as I stared at her wall:
Curled up imperfect edges of cheap paper under the ochre and whitewash she'd painted, splashed with white spirit, sponged with cheesecloth. she'd gripped the bubbling edges of the posters and produce stand ads and yanked them down, letting the square and perfect typset ideographs speak:
"The Blessed Country of Heaven is beautiful. Our hearts swell with industry. Lucky are we to live today."
(and in tiny marks splashed by blood red signature wax: "paid for by the international economic syndicate")
A poster advertising oranges for 39 HKD a box - showing beneath it was the same poster with a price of six. a news article about the syndicate saving the ordinary citizen from rebels lay next to a call for a peaceful meeting in the park dated the day before.
The deepest layers were love poetry, old stories of Monkey and the emperor,letters from sons who left the Middle kingdom to mothers back home. Barely any of those showed through.
"It's Marvelous," I said. It was marvelous. It would also land her in rehabilitiation if the wrong eyes saw it.
