The forest of lost umbrellas

June 22, 2012

It took them years, but the lost umbrellas made their way to the end of the world and created a low-slung forest. He found it just when he thought he’d seen everything.

Mid-forest, he felt like a giant, looking over the domes of black, yellow, and polka dot. They were shiny and slick, and rooted so firmly he could not extract one to protect himself from the falling rain.

He considered dropping down to lie beneath them, but was afraid of becoming likewise rooted, caught in this world where function lost became art found.

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