Thursday, April 28, 2011
X Marks the Spot
That dog-eared map is the last thing you have still telling you you're alive and not buried in some fever-dream out on the rim of the jungle. Squinting at the squiggles of rivers, faded to transparency in the creases and folds of the map's corners, you wipe your forehead for the millionth time. Insects buzz around your face; you wave them away absently. You stare up the peak ahead of you, daring to hope you've finally found the path. Beyond, you know, is the greatest treasure you've searched for.
This is writing at its finest... a tattered map to guide you, cutting your own way through barely charted territory. Hell, if you want, you can throw your map away and leave all convention at the foot of this jungle path. Give in to the savagery of your passion and search for a perfect treasure hidden away in your imagination.
And don't listen to Indiana Jones. X does mark the spot, sometimes... even for him.
Posted by B. Miller at 3:30 AM