Bright and early on a Monday morning, I half-stumbled into Woodland Junior High School to begin the second week of the Northwest Arkansas Writing Project. This was the day that Vance was in charge of the Quick Write. Anyone that knows me even a little bit knows that I am not a morning person...it takes me quite a while to wake up and be ready for the day. If Vance had known this little fact about me, I am quite certain that he would not have asked us analyze all or a portion of Salvador Dali's famous painting, "The Persistence of Memory." But alas...that was the task for the morning. I am quite sure that my written response is a great example of insanity. However...here it is...
Shoo fly! Don't bother me! Leave me alone! I'm not dead...just dying. Why have you come to pick at my bones? Listen carefully...I'm sure I can manage to squeak out a tick or two. Listen...here I go...I can do it...I promise...Why isn't this working? Mr. Fly, can you hear me? Why won't he answer me? This can't be the end. It just can't. I have so much more to give. I'm not finished. There's still good inside me. Wait a minute...I'm falling. Slipping and sliding and distorting. My shaped has morphed into something unrecognizable. My numbers, once perky and gleaming, are now drooping and sagging into areas they should not go.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
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