She had teeth like a broken fence and the sad face of a bloated goldfish. Her hands were softer than air and she had patience for only babies and dogs. She gamboled through life marking years with scars and schematics from projects and artwork gone both poorly and well. She made you forget about what couldn’t be. She reminded you to think less, like you used to. She had a way of looking through you with her big globby eyes as she’d take your memory and your soul and crush it to dust, filling hourglass upon hourglass with your silty remains.
Each unit was designated a fenced area, 500 yards square. There was a small shed full of standard construction and woodworking tools in one corner and raw lumber in another. The units filed into their pens and huddled in the centers of their cages. The distance between each group was vast, though everyone still spoke in short whispered commands regardless. Unit 8 was the first to take action: 20 men grabbed 20 shovels and started digging directly in the center of their plot. Within a couple of hours they had a deep foundation framed out and were working on the roof of the fort.
At the bottom of the ocean her cold dead eyes saw everything in blue. A cold blue that told her that her world, the one she’d known so recently, was now frozen forever, for her. This would be her vista until her retinas disintegrated or were consumed by the living creatures around her. She thought about the past, but dwelled on the present. She thought about the sky. Also blue like the frigid sea. The sky eventually left her memory, and her eyes fell from their sockets. Her toes remained for years to come, enveloped in canvas and cement.
Shot at the Arnold Arboretum in Jamaica Plain – Audio and Video recorded two weeks apart – I think the audio is of the mating that created the tadpoles in the video, though I’m not really sure.