Postcard to Somewhere
A one legged man, and his shrouded wife, clad from head to toe, the both of them, but the hat of the man implying summer and the shawl of the woman implying eternity, said summer it is. The view over the fence is obscured by a fence placed just above this one. The inscription is printed small enough for only them to decipher, not meant for passers-by, but for this targeted audience of two. They were sent to search and find just these words in a crease on a blank fence, in the cracks that imply waves in a monotone landscape, the sky beyond as grey as the dust under their order propecia online india feet. Or it could have been the color of cement. Find stories that appear, anonymous, no face on the people, stories for which there is no barometer of real or tried or true, but that go on out, shuffling into the horizons of doubt beyond the fence where only these 2 characters can see and yet you ache to meet them there, to see what they see.
*Crosby McCloy is a writer and performer who graduated with an MFA in Writing from Bard College. She will be teaching with Andrew Morrish at Independent Dance in London. She enjoys writing and moving and how each practice can inspire and complement the other.