And I smile, because if the most correct thing in the world looks wrong the only thing you can do is to smile.
Bessie runs further, straight ahead into the fields, as if she is hunting something.
I shout her name, but, really, I don’t care.
Bessie is somewhere in the wet mud, but I can only look up, at the wrong Orion.
Orion has seven stars. Three in a line diagonally from the horizon and a very vivid square of four stars is arranged around those three, locking those three into an imaginary square.
But Bessie runs somewhere in the mud and all I can look at is the wrong Orion, the Orion with four stars in the center. And the fourth star, every time I raise my head against the cold, looks wrong. Continue reading