April 23, 2013 at 12:00am
The distorted ceiling of the cabin was made out by a kerosene lamp that burned at the centre of what little could be seen. The dog turned over. ”What do i see? The routine objects of everyday life.” Sure enough, Leeks, but doesn’t that lamp do a number? The far and unseen angle of a chair-back is blown out on the wall in a weird impression. And your own snappin’ puppet of a bed frame is cast clear to the rafters where it bends, enormously, in on itself. Too spooky for me, Leeks. I don’t know how you sleep in this place.
