SubscribeRemembering --
Do you hear me, my little red? Hold me softly. The cold grows.
I remember --
-- I am hugely black and hopeful, I bounce on six legs along the mountains in the new warm!... Sing the changer! Sing the stranger! Will the changes come forever?... All my hums have words now. Another change!
Eagerly I bound on subward following the tiny thrill in the air. The forests have been shrinking again. Then I see. It is me! Mr-Myself, MOGGADEET -- I have grown bigger in the winter cold!...
I stop, pluck up a tree. so much I wanted to ask the Old One. No time. Cold. ...
I bound over a hill and see my brother Frim. A big black old one! I think. And in the warm, we can speak!...
He doesn't hear me, all his eye-turrets are under the trees...
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posted by kuujjuarapik at 7:58 PM on May 2, 2007