Memo to the Upper Room, Case # 296678
It isn’t easy for this man to fall asleep when you sneak in from the far edge of your allegorical river, your eyes as pointed as a double barrel shotgun muzzle. Surely it’s no surprise that this man is paralyzed with fear; perhaps your intention, but when challenged he still won’t put a name on the scene or the river, or the endpoint on the other side.
However, we do believe he is warming to our game after wandering, lost, through your fabulous woodlands this past year where he paused briefly by the stonemason’s sill of your decrepit gothic church, entranced by your slivers of silver moonlight and our seven-sentence chants. Therefore we recommend you ease off for now, give him more time; let the message sink in.
Signed: Your Humble Servants
church window’s dagger tracery
a white moth