Thursday 13 November 2014

Flooded carpet of the year.

There was a flood.


Probably not, but the road that crossed the mountains was partly submerged in thick brown water.

From the summit nothing showed but the south side of the mountains were made of different rock and the natural filter of the strata surely helped.

The problems lay to the north, away from where they were travelling.

Later they arrived at the apartment, lost now in the city suburbs. Once there had been farms as far as the imagination stretched.

Inside, nothing had changed, the carpets remained as unwelcoming as they had always been.

They went to the deep-sea terminal, apparently it was not far, and took the boat that had been waiting. 

They watched as they sailed past the abandoned waterfront offices, each one piled with detritus.

They moored alongside one and walked amongst the scattered chairs and desks.

“Carpets are for the rich”. 

She spoke for the first time.

“Do you think so?” He replied.


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