I am fox, I am the fox, I am all foxes I am Reynard and the old man from the mountain rabbit's death and poor mice' nemesis sneaker and flatterer cheater and seducer pest and disease red grace, full of fleas all this and more. |
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| The foot of the Acropolis. Plato is heading toward the sea. Skia, his shadow, is barely visible in the midday sun. The cicadas are screaming, maddened by the heat. Skia: How tiring! Can’t we stop and rest? Plato: What are you saying? Rest! I’m the one who’s walking. Your ridiculous prancing is nothing but an imitation of my stride. Skia: I’m not walking, but you keep stepping on my toes! Plato: So what? You’re nothing more than a shadow. You’re not made of flesh or blood; you can’t feel pain. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you – maybe with this heat I can’t see straight. Skia: Well, you wouldn’t turn your nose up at the freshness that my sisters offer you. We could stop for a moment in the shadow of that grotto down there. Plato: Never, never! I’d rather melt in the sun. I make an enormous effort to lift humanity out of the darkness. This is not the moment to turn our backs on the light. Skia: It’s clear as day that you don’t like me. But we still have a long way to go together. Plato: I would happily go without you. Skia: Why are you so set against shadows? What did they ever do to you? Plato: They’re too intrusive, that’s what. They’re distracting. They’re dark. They frighten children. They’re hard to understand. They create all kinds of problems. Skia: Can you give me an example? Plato: Look and you’ll see. Roberto Casati, Shadows  |
I'm too lazy to "fav" all of them, but you're definitely on my Watch-list, from now 
Sta.sh
