Once there was a story that only ended and never had a chance. Once there was a plot in which nothing happened. Once a story had every word in every language in it and nobody died or broke up or fell in love to begin with. Once there was a story that catalogued the breakfasts of painters but was written backwards so most people thought it was a tragedy and threw eggs at the page. Once there was a comedy that had no characters, only settings. In that story, a cloud narrated by changing shapes many times as it moved across the earth, and then it disappeared. No one laughed, even those that got the joke. But they applauded, a loud prayer of hands thundering back.
posted by holly.