Sky news

She looked up, and there it was

The sky

This time of evening, the city lights reflected on the overcast cover, giving everything a bronze sheen if you looked at it from a distance. It was peculiar, she thought. Both that the sky could do that, and that people didn’t seem to care too much about it

How do they manage? It’s the sky, it’s right there, staring everyone in the face. Or in their haircuts, she thought, chuckling

There was a secret fellowship in the world, she decided. Those whose faces were known to the sky

Issues big and small

“They might be giants”

“They are giants. Look at the logo, it says it right there. Giants”

“…but the logo is just the letters ‘ny’ in a weird font?”

“Huh. Now that you mention it. Never thought of that”

“So, judged by the logo alone, the only conclusion we might draw is that they, in fact, only might be giants”

“But they are the Giants”

“They could merely be football players of unusual size, though. We just don’t know”

“Now you’re just making references for the sake of making references”

“Magnets. Also, yes”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“You asked me to do the dishes, and I’m stalling”

“If you didn’t, it’d be a once in a lifetime event”

“Nice one”

“Dishes. Do them”

Everything abridged

Night driving. Darkness shrouded everything, except the small piece of everything caught in the headlight. There was still some distance left to go, still so much ground to cover. How could there be so much everything? It all seemed overproportioned, somehow, as if the measurements were off by a magnitude or two

Then, the bridge. A narrow corridor of something in the midst of a whole lot of nothing, stars abound and around. Except, there, someone had painted something, on the bridge, in defiance of traffic and safety, possibly also of reason:

Beware, lest ye be spoiled by philosophers