tibetanmethod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tibetanmethod) wrote2007-01-23 10:48 pm
tibetanmethod) wrote2007-01-23 10:48 pm
(no subject)
What's black and white and red all over?
The answer of answers:
Not the newspaper or the Communist panda. Not the FBI agent in a blender.
The Black Lodge.
***
The vertiginous pattern on the floor never stops -- the black and white stripes, with each stripe coming to a point and receding until it makes a point in the other direction, like so many tessellated and spooning lovers. The red curtains aren't heavy at all. They just hang.
The corridor is so long, and the statue at the end -- the one with the Greek lady, or maybe she's Roman, the one with the missing arms -- it's like the mountains on the horizon: she's not getting any closer.
They walk, Leland Palmer and Josie Packard and Harry S. Truman. They walk, and they walk, and then
His eyes are wrong. Cooper's eyes are wrong. He's stepped out of nowhere, somewhere out of the curtains, and he's got a rictus grin that says he knows everything about you and everything you don't know, and his eyes are wrong -- milky and murky and utterly without sanity.
He points a finger. "mOneY cAn'T bUy yOU LoVE."
Leland is the first one to turn away to where Cooper -- if it is Cooper -- points, and to part the curtains. What's beyond them is a room: black leather chairs, a black leather chaise longue, a floor lamp, another statue --
And the midget in red, and Laura Palmer.
Their eyes aren't wrong.
The answer of answers:
Not the newspaper or the Communist panda. Not the FBI agent in a blender.
The Black Lodge.
The vertiginous pattern on the floor never stops -- the black and white stripes, with each stripe coming to a point and receding until it makes a point in the other direction, like so many tessellated and spooning lovers. The red curtains aren't heavy at all. They just hang.
The corridor is so long, and the statue at the end -- the one with the Greek lady, or maybe she's Roman, the one with the missing arms -- it's like the mountains on the horizon: she's not getting any closer.
They walk, Leland Palmer and Josie Packard and Harry S. Truman. They walk, and they walk, and then
His eyes are wrong. Cooper's eyes are wrong. He's stepped out of nowhere, somewhere out of the curtains, and he's got a rictus grin that says he knows everything about you and everything you don't know, and his eyes are wrong -- milky and murky and utterly without sanity.
He points a finger. "mOneY cAn'T bUy yOU LoVE."
Leland is the first one to turn away to where Cooper -- if it is Cooper -- points, and to part the curtains. What's beyond them is a room: black leather chairs, a black leather chaise longue, a floor lamp, another statue --
And the midget in red, and Laura Palmer.
Their eyes aren't wrong.
no subject
And a little pine weasel shall lead them isn't how it goes, but it's certainly worth a try.
Corridors, and rooms, and rippling curtains and every so often the sound of one string plucked on a bass.
The sunlight, when they finally emerge, is blinding. Cooper can hear the birds, and the footsteps -- Hawk's voice, that of Major Briggs, a sudden flurry of noise and sensation. "We're okay," he says, slightly dazed. "It's done. We're done."
The pine weasel is nowhere to be seen.