1. Bees. Blown up, black and white etchings of bees, poorly Xeroxed. Small bright photos of bumblebees on on pink rhododendrons. Segments. The furry torso. The legs bent back like the less than sign, burdened with fur. The antennae seem lonely, somehow.
2. Sunburn. The lake. A woman with short brown curly hair ( I can’t see her face) lifts up her bikini strap. On her shoulder, her skin is brick red and then in the space under the strap, half-shadowed, white. The furiously green trees in the background have extra crisp edges -- there’s no distance blur. I can hear splashing and the sound of a beach ball being whacked. Somebody’s laughing; somebody’s speaking quietly.
3. Shallow river. Unnaturally blue, flowing down a hillside into mud. It’s raining lightly and ruining the carnival. I have stolen something and hid it under a bench. The organizer comes to find me and I try to look innocent. I deserve this thing, this small thing that fits in my two hands. No one else needs it as much as me. I wish the performance was over already.