He paints I write three men

 

 

Sitting in a room are three men wearing hats.

Teacups with no handles idly reside on a glass table.

A man picks up a teacup and sips.

The other man touches the brim of his black hat as he looks to the left.

The third man places his hand on the side of the red chair that he sits upon.

Silence ensues.

Between the men.

The window that is slightly ajar allows the soft chime of the aspen leaves

To leave whispers.

They stop their chime, when the whistle of the wind dampers.

The man with the teacup holds the cup with no handle by his parted lips,

gently feeling the heat penetrate the inside of his mouth.

He does not blow.

But ponders doing so hesitatingly.

He is frozen there, holding his teacup with no handle against his parted lips, not blowing.

A change in temperature causes the other man’s hair upon his arm to capriciously wiggle.

And the third man glances at his resting hand.

 

We are looking at a room in black and white.

But as we look, the teacups with no handles begin to change color.

From gray they turn a pale yellow.

As we look longer and squint our eyes, from pale yellow they begin to illuminate.

Two fingers rub the teacup with no handles that is now a pale yellow slowly reverberating a yellow luminosity.

The two fingers rub steadily in circles and from pale yellow they become a yellow.

It is now a scene of black and white and yellow.

And the men wearing hats

Still are still.

And nothing has changed except for the color of yellow.

That was gray, before.

And now is yellow.

The window is no longer open.

The window is closed.

And the men with their hats have not moved.

The man, who holds the now yellow teacup with no handle, and parted lips, still does not blow.

The man whose hair capriciously wiggles sits with a blank expression, also still, and idle like the two other tea cups with no handles that have not moved from the start.

The third man is looking at his hand. Only his hand has become a fly.

From the wrist, it is severed, but the third man does not seem to notice.

The fly sits there.

The wings rub and if you listen as though your ears are searching for a sound,

You will hear the sound of the wings rubbing together.

The fly and its wings and its eyes.

The eyes dart and the wings rub,

But the fly remains still.

 

You are looking at a room in black and white.

The teacups with no handles are yellow.

The third man who looks at his hand that is a fly,

Still is still.

But the fly whose wings are rubbing and whose eyes dart to the left and then dash to the right,

Is not still.

The fly is moving and is no longer resting on the red chair that is not red because it is black.

But is red, because.

And the fly is flying from left to right.

But the fly is no longer a fly but a pendulum

And the pendulum is moving from left to right.

The three men wearing hats still are still.

The man, who holds the now yellow teacup with no handle, and parted lips, still does not blow.

The man whose hair capriciously wiggles sits with a blank expression, also still, and idle like the two other tea cups with no handles that have not moved from the start.

And the third man continues to look at his hand that is no longer there.

The pendulum moves inch by inch, its weight carrying it slowly.

As it moves, the three men wearing hats still are still.

But they have separated from the chairs upon which they sit.

The three men wearing hats gently float upwards, away from the chairs upon which they sat,

Still still.

 

I am standing in a room that is black and white.

My feet are upon the ground.

Three men wearing hats are still

floating upwards.

I am holding a pendulum.

There is a glass table, upon which two teacups with no handles idly sit.

The man with the yellow teacup, floats, still holding the yellow teacup by his parted lips.

 

I am holding a pendulum.

The pendulum is moving from right to left.

I am not standing in a room that is not black and white.

I am not standing in a room.

I am sitting in a red chair

I am holding a yellow teacup with no handle

But I am not wearing a hat.

 

Three hats sit idly on a glass table.

One is black

One is red.

One is yellow.

 

Three hats sit idly on a glass table.

One is black

The other is black

And the third is white.

 

Three hats sit idly on a glass table.

I cannot see these hats.

I can only see the glass table.