My pedestal is hitched in history. What I remember is a personal, historical memory. Words change, images contort and visceral etchings contain them, conform them to a specific, actual, descriptive point. Clouded, here I am alone, wandering at the point.
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Characters: Anne, in her late sixties; she speaks only through the messages she leaves on her answering machine which end with the familiar ‘beep.’ Anne’s son, and only child, Matthew, late-30’s Their Neighbour, Mrs. Elsie Hildebrandt, nearing ninety, has a thick German accent; used to live next door to Anne, now in personal care home […]