5 March, 2010
in the morning sponge put on his arms. he put on his legs then. last, the head. done. ready to go. i wonder what happens next, he said. usually something happens.something, such as a knock on the door. a knock. coming, said sponge. i’m coming. he looked around. the room looked as always. another knock. impatient. sponge when to open the door with his elbow. are these your hands, the man said. he was the janitor’s helper, surely he was, the janitor had mentioned something about taking somebody on and collected money as well. are the yours, the helper said, and presented a pair of hands. i could do with some, said sponge, they are always useful. the hands were passed on, they fitted. thanks you, said sponge and closed the door. he would be late now, he thought, had he had an appointment of sorts. he left. there is a door after all, he thought.
evening time he returned, took everything off and fell asleep.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
using hands to open a door
- kindness of strangers
- some lives are worse than others but the stories are all the same
- anything is good for something in the end
- we don’t like days and are at odds with nights
- inflate or deflate or put on another show
- egg and a query
- come to mention it a melody sounds like the other
- a legend is born
- somewhere would be something else now
- the trail of art