Violently flickering was our tall heap, a jumbled and a wooden thing, it swayed not much to left or right but burned throughout the misty night. I'd dragged it this way, dragged it that, with sweat I'd soaked my favorite hat, forthwith a proper place was found on wet and sodden valley ground, where soon was lit a burning fire, a long-awaited funeral pyre. In were tossed the bits and chunks of: cases, cabinets, and trunks; heirlooms, lumber, boards, and chairs; in too went many fears and cares and memories from days gone by – indeed the tongues of grasping flame refusing to be forced or tamed went tearing through the mighty heap like coyote mauling cornered sheep. Photographs of this event bear witness to and document some of the things that had occurred, image trumps the written word.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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