Danse Macabre
1 Minute Read Time
Someone is holding out a globe of the world as it might look in the far future, and everything is already all right, there are just no people on this globe. If you look very closely at one of the small islands remaining, some bees do their danse macabre around the undisturbed hive, the size of a severed human head; but they have never seen a severed head with their thousand eyes. They cover the hive like a beard; but they have never seen a beard. They move in and out of the eyes, which to them are not eyes but small compartments full of doors and hallways. The only other worlds they know are flowers, some bent and rotting on the lime-green fuse, some still facing upward on the globe, inside the perfectly temperate, empty, quiet, remarkably dark theater.
Read more from Issue 18.1.
