[ Absent wire, bereft time, short on supplies. Their circumstances would paint themselves hollow, desolate and inopportune, but for the silent trail of Lan Wangji's eyes where the tree house sleeps a lone protrusion, wood drifting and damp, tattered by countless storms, its rot a quiet, solidified constant.
He thinks, there would be nails there, clay beating long plaques of wood into recognisable, sturdy geometries. On ground, men might would contort dirt into additives, to raise their construct.
Here, they cannot afford rigidity. Not when so many branches could fall to a storm, and the house might require, then, displacement. So, its position here and now must be — bartered. Transient.
...removable. ]
The house's floors and roofs stay solid.
[ He seeps from one branch to the next, feet negotiating easy purchase, hand soft when it searches the ridges of the house's wood and leaves ugly prints of blood, inked by moonlight. His palm slides and lifts and touches until, all at once, he tugs — ]
Construct a spear's end. [ While Wangji does battle with extracting the house's rope, between its tired, rusting creaks. ]
no subject
He thinks, there would be nails there, clay beating long plaques of wood into recognisable, sturdy geometries. On ground, men might would contort dirt into additives, to raise their construct.
Here, they cannot afford rigidity. Not when so many branches could fall to a storm, and the house might require, then, displacement. So, its position here and now must be — bartered. Transient.
...removable. ]
The house's floors and roofs stay solid.
[ He seeps from one branch to the next, feet negotiating easy purchase, hand soft when it searches the ridges of the house's wood and leaves ugly prints of blood, inked by moonlight. His palm slides and lifts and touches until, all at once, he tugs — ]
Construct a spear's end. [ While Wangji does battle with extracting the house's rope, between its tired, rusting creaks. ]