Editor.
He loved the good text. The longer he worked in the publishing house, the more he respected the classics. Reading should always be pure pleasure. However, good text was now at a premium. He read many kilos of paper at work. He saw paper in various varieties: as a mass of an indefinite shape or a meter shape of an indefinite mass. Stacks of processed trees. A forest of the past. Most often it was pure waste paper. At least he'll make a decent fire in the fireplace, he thought.
Quarantine: The 15th day was slowly coming to an end. It was a cold and cloudy day. He took home a kilo of articles, stories and two poems:
>> It will get warmer soon. <<
As he thought, he did it.
He hesitated a little on one page, knew the text, remembered it. It was a small article about photography. As usual, something at the right time, with beautiful black and white images, such academic gibberish. However, one sentence caught his attention.
The fire in the fireplace was burning harder. There was more and more smoke in the room and he couldn't take his eyes off this sentence. It sounded like this:
a photo can show the hidden structure of the world.
There were wooden beams next to the fireplace. He liked to smoke beech. Walnut was also good and smelled nice. It was good writing material. Did you know about this?
The editor was not an old man. Although his long mustache and long hair were slightly silver plated. A wood burning stylus stood by the fireplace. He took the beech and wrote it on it:
zdjęcie może ukazać ukrytą strukturę świata.
He wrote only in Polish on wooden beams.
He would have to burn him later.
As usual.
YOU ARE READING
Quarantine/Kwarantanna
RandomW trakcie kwarantanny dodałam sobie nowy cel w życiu: opisanie kogoś w podobnej tylko z pozoru sytuacji. Te krótkie teksty głaszczą moje myśli. Jeśli pisanie i dla Ciebie jest terapią, napisz do mnie. Może skrobniemy coś razem? Every day a differen...
