HIDING IN PLAIN FRIGHT
'You lurk in the bushes like a run-on sentence digging
words instead of worms.' That's not very polite. Right?
Frankly, Mrs. Shankly, I don't care, and you yourself
resemble a dog. A nice dog, but a dog.
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I stood at the door to enter the sculpture garden, and
nothing moved. I guess that's only right, because these
'sculptures' didn't have joints. Even the angels and the
sprites looked more like frozen garden creatures.
-
A Mr. Bellamy came over to explain to me that these
'sculpt-formettes' as he called them, we're all created
by AI. Then he went on about 3D constructions and
virtual art. What the hell had I entered?
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