It would be wonderful—simply wonderful!—if the shedding hairs atop my hair were not replaced three-fold on my chest and neck. If it happened t'other way round, then the days would pass much more confidently, and I likewise through them. But, alas, it must not be so. I am doomed to wander the earth with body of a mop-dog and the head of a hairless cat, some inhuman Moreauian creature made of science and madness. Science! And madness! They will put me on an island and I will become a thing of legend, something fathers tell their sons, a warning, a cautionary tale. Men and boys will heave sighs of relief and say, At least we are not him. If such a thing can exist.
No comments:
Post a Comment