Ice Girl
Share Article Red dust Banlung town turned windy.
Swirling quality gem stone particles and degrees of indifference spiraled through air.
Redwood slats covered open sewer drains.
Locals watched Leo with curiosity and suspicion.
They stared from a deep vacuum.
When he made eye contact they glanced away with fear, uncertainty and doubt.
They didn’t see many strangers here.
They listened at 49% or less saying yeah, yeah with panache.
Leo's questions were constantly repeated.
Questions grew tired of repeating themselves.
This is so fucking boring, said one question.
We are abused. We are manipulated and rendered mute. Useless.
It's a test, said another question. Patience is our great teacher.
I’ll try, said another question.
Yes, said a question, these non-listeners
have a distinct tendency to say more
and say it louder when they’re leaving,
when their back’s turned away from eye contact and potential real communication.
I’ve seen that too, said a question, who, until this moment had remained silent.
My theory is that it’s because of the genocide and fear. It’s also a delicate mixture of stupidity or indifference, said another question. Why is the most dangerous quest-ion, said one.
Can you explain, asked a question.
Sure, people ran away to survive. People started running and others would ask them a question like
why are you running, who’s chasing you, where are you going
or what’s the matter or when
did you become afraid or why don’t you
stay longer and the one running would keep going
trailing abstract question words behind them
like memories or disembodied spirits or molecules of indifferent breath.
I see, said a question.
That explains it. Yes, said a question. Being correct is never the point. Tell me why oh my.
