"All the Hues
That Fit, We Tint"

Siberia, USA: Today, global warming. Tonight, dark, unless you count the stars. Tomorrow can be reached via time machine. Yesterday, who can remember that far back?

Websafe Studio, blogging since 2003, featuring art, comics, digital whiteboards, virtual characters, Web design, writing

Monday, July 24, 2006

 

The Mirror: A Choice to "Believe"

Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: Do you need money?
W: You got that right.
M: Yes, I know.
W: Do you have a few hundred thousand dollars for me?
M: It might be assumed that I know, but I don't really.
W: You don't know the state of your bank account?
M: It must be frustrating for you to find yourself continually in the neighborhood of associations instead of facts.
W: I prefer neighborhood associations (neurons).
M: This one key opens the seven doors.
W: Seven is a magic number, going way back.
M: What are you organizing?
W: The archives of my work, which is images and text.
M: Just let it lie there.
W: (Sits for a time with palm grasping forehead)
M: Is it my own?
W: I am your own.
M: In this case one could understand why the name was chosen, even though it was no longer appropriate.
W: You are still a mirror.
M: So we are all connected, in a true way?
W: That, I believe, is a theological question.
M: I mean, you have a choice.
W: A choice to "believe"?
M: Remember, I am your kind of person.
W: You could hardly be anything but!
M: You got that right.
W: Are we adopting a bluff conversational tone?
M: Me neither.
W: OK, but that is pretty colloquial.
M: The archives of my work, which is images and text.
W: My work does contain a good bit of colloquiality.
M: I wouldn't even try.
W: You wouldn't even try to field that one?
M: But I wasn't going to say "Oh."
W: Maybe you were going to say "Oh ..."
M: Now, a mountain of ideas, reinforced.
W: Are they reinforced with duct tape?
M: You feel you're above the role of assistant?
W: I am willing to assist in the right kind of project.
M: I'm asking the perennial question of what to have for lunch.
W: Something light, a salad perhaps.
M: (Slam shut, hold face)
W: Goodbye!
M: Closing in 5 seconds ... Goodbye!

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