By Jin-yeong Yi
The trees were stationed on either side of the great cabins, but the mountains stood still as they received their daily feeding from the creatures that knew not bees or lakes. The silence was not within his plan to trek through the vast penetralia of the southern caves, but he didn’t know what the paint was doing splattered on the front porch of the house 1,333 miles away. But he didn’t care, because the summit was not the height of temptation, but the trucks were piling on high.
“My friend, didn’t you say that you had a dinner party to attend to?” The rabbit asked. “What the devil do you mean by that?” asked the bewildered turtle, who promptly proceeded to transform into a hedgehog. “The winter is young, so we might as well find some black licorice to feed my young.”
“But life is too short,” protested the rabbit, who happened to be a pacifist. The conversation stopped there, because the logic was running out, and there was a pyramid of canned beans on the shelves of a recently abandoned cabin to the west of the temple.
With her patience wearing thin, the bird briskly swam down the Nile in order to visit the French intellectuals who supported the ideas of Meslier.