Here is my backdated post for The Cube:
The desert sand is pale and sparkly. The sand is fine and slips through the fingers as if it were silk. There are plants dotting the landscape. The sky is blue but streaked with white. Even though the setting is spare, there is warmth to it that has nothing to do with the heat. In fact, as deserts go, this one has a chill in the air that is quite pleasant to feel contrasted with the warmth of the sun.
The cube is translucent with deep pink, red, and orange shots of color. It is like a piece of rosewater Turkish Delight. It hovers above the ground, and casts a shadow. It revolves slowly, with one of the corners pointing down, and it makes a whooshing noise. It is the size of a small living-room.
There is a medium brown wooden ladder leaning against the cube. I’m not sure how it manages to lean against the Cube while the Cube revolves, but it does. The ladder is smooth and polished, with 5 or 6 rungs. The rungs are slippery unless you go up the ladder with bare feet.
All of a sudden, on the horizon, a horse gallops toward the Cube. It runs circles around the Cube, paws the ground and lifts its forefeet in the air a la the poster shots of The Black Stallion. The horse is dun colored, which is odd to me, because if I were to choose a horse based on color, I would choose a black, glistening horse. It has no bridle and no saddle, but it is friendly and approachable. However, it wants to remind me that in the end, it is wild.
The storm comes suddenly, and the sky turns from streaked blue and white to dark red and purple, with fierce rains beating down upon the sand. The inner translucent light of the Cube is dimmed. Thunder booms, water runs into the ground, and rivulets turn into little rivers. The horse is wet, but stays by the Cube, its mane plastered to its neck, no longer running around, but staying close to the Cube. The Cube is not revolving now. It is still, waiting for the storm to abate.
As suddenly as the storm appeared, it vanishes. All of a sudden, bright flowers bloom all over the desert. The air is heavy with moisture, and there are birds singing their relief. Everything is washed clean, cleaner than it was in the beginning, yet at the same time there is good rich mud where none existed before. How is this possible in the desert with the sand? The landscape is changed. It is no longer desert, but it is not quite meadowland. There are hibiscus flowers in this landscape, and I don’t know if that’s possible in a desert. But there they are.
Monday, March 21, 2005
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