Wilson, my neighbor, brought over a bag of grass clippings the other day. He stood on my front step: motionless, sincere, unaffected by the strangeness of the situation. I took the bag and thanked him, told him I had been “looking everywhere for grass.” I’m not sure why he gave me the clippings, maybe it was his way of saying “goodbye.”
I stored the clippings in the attic, next to a lamp and a dirty filing cabinet. I hadn’t been up there in awhile, so I decided to rummage through old belongings. I came across a rectangular book collection which consisted of a few pulp novels and magazines. Too lazy to read, I picked up The Outsider and The Transformation. “The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer” I read out loud, tore, and clipped to the bag of grass. You never know what you’ll find in the attic. It’s a place riddled with old junk and seminal treasures.
2007-11-23 08:40:25 · 2 answers · asked by Anonymous in Arts & Humanities ➔ Other - Arts & Humanities