parágrafos

With my middlers today, we were creating "perfect" paragraphs. Mine:

Veruso Illusions on Zewana

I have no place to go. Every place I’ve looked seems old, done, dried out. If you look across the room of this world of mine, the trees seem to tremble. There is a chasm—an unfathomable chasm—in my brain. Call it my soul. Call it your soul, if you buy the notion that we are all one. What a notion that is, eh? The thing is, I’m not sure that I buy it myself. Do your trees tremble? Do you even have trees? Perhaps when you look across the room of that world of yours, what you see is a wallpaper from the 70s—Andromeda in non-woven black and white, washable, flame resistant (thank God for that), and palpable. Product number 410112. Or, if not Andromeda, then perhaps Sampati, Elektra, or even Medusa. Perhaps your hand touches the furry textures and you are immediately transported to fourteen-foot walls in a hotel room in Bordeaux or Nice, or instead the clammy suburban walls of Luby’s Cafeteria on Loop 410, just down the street from Exotic Meats. Does knowing that Exotic Meats is just blocks away from the texture beneath your fingers make you feel any less sure of yourself, or does it bring the kind of epiphany you were hoping you’d find at the end of the movie “(500) Days of Summer”? Were you amused that Summer turns to Autumn, or did you think that, happy though you may have been for Tom, that was just one very cheesy bit of plotting? Okay, I’ll admit it: I was amused, and yes, it was a very cheesy bit of plotting, but furthermore, it was just the kind of thing we’re all looking for, hoping for, and praying for—the moment in our lives when we’re both curdled by the cheese on our plates and damned glad to find it there. It’s the kind of cheese that will fill a chasm, sew soul to soul, and maybe—if you squint yourself out of your pre-nuptial myopia—be just the cheese to turn tree to Sampati, and in so doing, bring your Product Number round to the perfect one.