Oct 26 2008
This is me trying to write.
posted by Seth in soup”
[sic]
It was the moon-cub’s job to pick the fist-melons, which were a pale green-yellow. The old man would say ‘Simeon, it is time for you to pick the melons.’ He would say these words through his wooly beard every day—every day that the moon-cub could remember. The moon-cub had lived for many [...]