__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________“Ah, yes, hello?” an old man’s voice came from the other end.
“This is Benedict Nobunaga, principle of Gregor Mendel public school. This is Ellanie Ploeg, correct?” he asked, yet before he could correct his mistake or respond to the reply the girl would give him, a woman could be heard on the other end of the line speaking, her words coming off as incomprehensible through the phone.
“Who? Tell her I’ll call her later. Oh? No, we’ll do that on the 7th. I don’t care how full his schedule is, if he wants his pay, he better work.- Ah, excuse me, Miss Ploeg. I am calling you for a request, you see. I am well acquainted with one of your history lectors, Mr. Hoshino, who recommended you to me. Unfortunately, a history teacher of ours called in sick today and we require a replacement.- What now, Mrs. Dole? Gum in the ventilation? Well, what do you want me to do? Get in there with my size? Call a technician, for crying out- Ah, my apologies, Miss Ploeg. It seems our staff is having a hectic day today. In any case, it will only be for today, maybe for tomorrow, can’t say for sure.- Would you pipe down for a second, Mrs Dole.- You will only have four classes today: one with 9th grade, two 10th grades and one 11th. Come around at 10 o’clock. We’ll pay you- I’m coming, already!- Have a nice day, Miss Ploeg! We’ll be expecting you!” the principle wished in a hurry and the call ended.
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The Hanged ManTwelve - the perfect number symbolizing the zodiac
The thirteenth movement
Through many lands the Fool has traveled
and many truths his eyes have dazzled.
Several lessons he has learned.
Thoughts on them his mind have burned
Along the cliffs and through the plains.
By the palace and the dunes of flames.
Between the trees and past the stall.
With the lion and in the hall.
Wisdom and teaching, so much to learn.
With them, no doubt, there is plenty to earn.
But all of them tangle and confuse the mind.
By his own shadow the Fool feels left behind.
Everyone was running ahead to the future.
But his thoughts were without any structure.
Startled by all the decisions ahead,
the Fool sought a place to rest his poor head.
On his path he found it, a simple old tree.
Beneath its wide shadow came to sit he.
Past him went people and creatures and days.
Silent he was, beneath the rain and sun’s rays.
On the ninth day, without reason why,
the jolly good Fool hung himself by
the foot on the tree he had sat under
and allowed himself to bleakly wonder.
Why had he traveled all of this time?
From his pockets fell every single dime.
Was there true purpose or was it redeeming?
He saw them as pieces without any meaning.
The Fool’s perspective went through great change.
Upside-down he saw the world as quite strange.
Things that he knew he came to question
and those he did not - knew without objection.
And so he dangled from the tree,
the hanged man in the grey sea.
In the space between the heavens and land,
Time goes by with the slipping of sand.
This moment was pleasant, yet he knew
that to this dream he must bid adieu.
Soon the journey would start anew,
until then he could hang for an hour or two.
|| - - - ||The sound of chattering ravens was the only one to welcome the rising sun, which still dwelled in its soft grey covers, on that cold autumn day. The sweet lullabies of little birds could no longer be heard, for they had flown south to their warm winter residences. Those who remained sung harshly, without a pinch of delight, and the flapping of their wings was akin to the cracking of old bones against each other. Despite the bitterness of these avian psalms, the morning was slowly being painted in a wonderful palette of colour, one of soft light hues, which dyed the clouds and sky. Under the hopeful bright canvas the city was also changing according to the times.
A gentle breeze blew through the trees and they shivered to its touch, many shedding their leaves in the process. These tears had long lost their fresh green tone and had faded to yellow, red or brown, the banners of change in the seasons, as well as in the hearts of the innumerable residents.
One by one the windows were lit, from those of tall flats to the small ones of houses, and shadows could be seen moving about within, as if engaging in a ritual dance. Everyone was getting ready for the start of the day in their own way.
With the fading of the last stars from the welkin, so had the late night walkers, who had partied or worked throughout the moonlit hours and could finally rest within their dwelling places, until the glaring sun would set once more.
Others had awakened shortly prior or after the golden disk’s rise and had set out on their daily routine. Hustling and bustling, cars were already roaring through the streets, exhaling their ghastly fumes that burned both eyes and lungs.
[GIANT ENORMOUS EMBARRASSING WIP]