strange radiation: the pool of radiance archive

Adventures with an unreliable narrator.

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Jan 29 06: dancing in paris

The Gemini sisters weren’t much to look at. They’d all been constructed on the same body plan, and Isuzu was rarely cited as a paragon of æsthetic sensitivity. The only way to tell them apart was by color, and even then you couldn’t be sure. There were at least eight or nine red ones, for instance. Gloria? Alice? Viola? You could never really know which one you were looking at.

Not that it made much difference, anyway. Something about them just wasn’t right. Perhaps the mass-production process was at fault; perhaps it was no accident but something intentional. If you dealt with them one at a time you could tell that you were in the presence of five-eighths of an entity. Not that she wasn’t all there, but that she was all there and it wasn’t quite the whole sandwich.

If you got more than one of them together, though. Something happened. They became vivacious, exciting, thrilling; their missing pieces appeared in the narrow spaces between them. You were suddenly in company that was breathtaking, enthralling, even dangerous. You’d become certain that their mad existence would end in their own glamorous destruction (as well as that of bystanders, boats, trains, fountains, and the Pont Neuf) and you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off them.

And then they would start to dance.

[no, really. just go.]

Commentary

Whoa! Pretty unbelievable dancing. Who knew two tons of car could be so nimble? Is my own auto obsession rubbing off?

posted by pablito, Feb 12 06 10:45 AM