My
latest creature duo just now came out so assuredly - not only quickly but
requiring of me the strictest application of a phrase I assume they put in my
mind because it was repeated so often in my head while I was catalyzing them
onto a page I can't account in any other way for it: 'economy of means, economy
of means, economy of...'. - that I assumed a poem would just as assuredly bloom
out of the business. I mean they arrived so fully loaded with whatever they
were, why wouldn't they have given me the rest of
their raison d'être? But that was it. Nothing more came.
I
showed them to my Queen and she had a remarkable reaction. She stared at them
in full recognition: clearly she knew them. And while she said nothing, she
gave me to understand, in the manner of such things, that she very much desired
to hold the drawing for a moment. So I put it in her hands. The second I
clicked the iPhone camera to take a pic of her holding it, I received a sudden
flash of a message - I cannot say from whom, but it wasn't my Queen - that it
was urgent I add a covering of bright yellow to the flame head of the
disgruntled creature on the left departing from the pleading one on the right:
to render a suggestion, that is, of very blond hair.
I
tried to contact my Queen to see how she felt about this but she had gone quite
blank. So I gently extracted the drawing from her, applied the yellow where
indicated, and when I was done I showed it to her. She was still blank -
wherever she had retreated to she had no intention of returning from. At least
for now, I hope not forever.
The
two creatures, now that I have supplied one with the necessary yellow head,
seem also no longer to know I'm there. One is a pawn in one's creatures' games.
One however manages to muddle through, and so shall I. And I know my Queen will
come back. How could she not?
.
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