The Noise of Wordlessness

Adriane was a kid on Christmas morning, distracted by urn, obelisk, and angel. We left the road, plunging immediately into the sea of granite and marble. Not every grave was marked so fancifully. There were many plain stones, and several made of inexpensive blocks of poured concrete. A rabbit darted from an antique rose bush to its warren dug beneath an empty concrete base. Then it turned around and stood up, rising over seven feet, no old woman. There was no baby either, just as cadaver as an ancient man,. The infants incessant whales flowing from the blackness of a smile that fractured across his craggy face.

Transcript

Play full episode

The AI-powered Podcast Player

Save insights by tapping your headphones, chat with episodes, discover the best highlights - and more!

Get the app