Dustin O'Halloran - We Move Lightly
A man put down his feather-duster with finality. He said, "Man was not meant to cleanse his own particulate traces from the world." He thought of himself as an artist, not as a domestic. He left the house at which he was employed and went out to walk the grounds. He entered the garden. There was a topiary maze that had been built many years before, but the bushes had not been trimmed for a long time and had outgrown their fixed lines. From the man's perspective, the maze resembled a swollen glyph, something written carefully, but written in crayon. He went into the small shed next to the house and retrieved the hedge clippers. When he started cutting, he realized he couldn't fully renovate the maze unless he knew the center of it, unless he had spent significant time learning the end and how it looked from every entry angle. He stopped cutting along the maze and started cutting into the maze. At the center, there was a short stone bench the seat of which had been carved to appear as if someone had unrolled a granite scroll and left it atop two pillars. "What a fanciful bench," the man thought. He decided to sit fancifully upon it, and he did so by balancing all his weight on his heels, the only part of his body to touch the bench. He threw the clippers with one hand and watched their X-shape spin in the air and land with a satisfying thwip with both blades stuck in the soft ground.[Buy Lumiere]