The Silver Trumpet Brayed

Can I really hear the scratching of that creature, the one which so occupied Franz? But I'm not hiding yet, but still digging frantically towards that sound which is sometimes so close as to seem alive and attainable and yet which I seem never actually to find. And being so un-attainable, that which was once attractive is becoming an irritation and a disturbance until, like Franz, one day I will find myself oppressed by it.

posted by Weasel @ 8:05 PM