Flood Myth

I was born into this one room with two windows. It is dark outside and always has been. I am sitting here among others, talking. A single light rests on our faces and the many things that were brought here long ago.

The things are as specific as a turquoise pencil crayon or as vague as geometry. We like to arrange them and talk about them. A new thing or person has not come into the room for a long time. People have different styles of arranging things. Some find humour in it; others use things to talk about problems in the room, but also to speculate about the problems outside the room. Many people live outside, but we don’t know them. None of us have been there. I guess at its size, and it frightens me.

I wondered once where the things came from. Before arranging one, I looked at it. Hand grease and stuffy air had formed a patina like tanned hide. I could not see

beneath it, and I noticed they were all like this. I could not arrange things anymore. I knew that as long as they…