Geryon watched his mother pick a fragment of tobacco off her tongue before she said,
Does he ever write anything with a happy ending?
Geryon paused.
Then he reached up and carefully disengaged the composition paper
From the teacher’s hand.
Proceeding to the back of the classroom he sat at his usual desk and took out a pencil.
New Ending.
All over the world the beautiful red breezes went on blowing hand
In hand.
-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
well
nothing is actually more complicated. or for that matter different.
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