Work Text:
To the north lies Elena, city of towers and crows. Women are writing in the towers; crows carry the manuscripts from one tower to another, their black wings sketching out the subtlest ideas and boldest desires, turning the sky into a mirror of the pages that they carry.
Crows, however, are not as faithful as ink. Sometimes as one wings its way, a glittering object will catch its eye: a pocket watch, a cigarette lighter, a wedding band set beside the sink as supper dishes are washed. The crow swoops down and drops a page, stealing the shining prize away.
What is the man whose pocket watch is gone to make of the abandoned page? He does not know who wrote the words, or for whom they were intended. All he knows is A knife is drawn slowly across eager flesh, or A woman is feigning to be her lover's father. Perhaps these images are fair payment. And what of the woman who, expecting stories, receives a ring?
All across Elena, the crows in their avarice rearrange desire. The writing women could leave their towers and carry their stories through the streets. The citizens of Elena could guard their treasures more closely. Yet they all continue to leave a space for this sudden, wild coveting.