| Charcoal on the back, flowers in the stomach |
[22 Oct 2003|03:16pm] |
Waking to an autumn day, the doctor was soon walking about the cobblestone streets of the city. The air was fresh, the sky was blue. A woman walked a pair of wolves across the city street, leashes in one hand, a polka dot bag in the other.
In due time, the doctor came to the sparse park. Leaves blew around. The doctor noticed this, though it offered no comfort. He sat on a bench and began to eat a bag of dates and flowers.
Soldiers were nearby stringing a naked man up between two trees. The scene was calm if not subdued. The soldiers stood tall and straight, marking out marching strategies in charcoal on the man's back. It was then that the doctor noticed that the man was "his" fencing tutor, though he preferred to use the term "a fencing tutor" so as not to dehumanize or objectify the man.
This man appeared to be in good spirits, though the doctor could tell he had somewhere to be. Perhaps an appointment with a young lad with deplorable lunging skills.
"The poor lad's affondo may be an offendo," stated the doctor to himself.
The soldiers, patting the black dust off their long vinyl gloves, straightening their red bars and roman numerals, cut the man's tethers. He quickly donned his clothes and passed the doctor with a tip of his cap.
The park was again sparse.
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