It was at the very height of the Disco Era, 1978, when a sloe gin fog loomed over the land and obscured his town's Mona Lisa, Molly Malone and Venus de Milo: a statue called The Genius of Water.
Her hair flowed like lyrics, pausing only in the fitful crescendo of curve. Her nose was strong and Roman and her eyes and mien conveyed the rare and almost paradoxical aspect of wise mercy. It was like magic to watch from her hands fall glistening water. Movement, life, motherhood. The idylls of spring.
The genius of it had mostly been lost on Stan since its only representation came on a tiny screen on the side of a small box accompanied by the triteness of the theme from the television show WKRP in Cincinnati.
Week in, week out, the Great Fountain began and ended the show in the familiar if impoverishing montage: shown from the same angle, from the same height, in the same season, in the same light, soon it held no magic for Stan reduced as it were to the cheap totem of the everyday.
In conformity to the general rule, he had to move away to appreciate her. It took time, indeed years, but wonder returned to the Prodigal's eyes.
It was the water, naturally, that did it.
May 06, 2009
Fiction for a Wednesday
It's been far too long since the last installment of "Fiction for a..." where the dot-dot-dot happens to be the day of the week it gets posted.
Posted by TS at 7:33 AM