80 / 168
80
The silence was loud. Alfredo was broken, forgetting the contro-
versial menu of the Parisian cuisine. No words could be spoken.
Actions were only so able to be completed. It was as if someone was
tearing Alfredo from the flesh, slowly, then all at once.
W
hy would
she order
such a violent
,
sensitive
dish
?
No compensation for
this woman, who could very well be feasting negligently upon
Alfredo’s very frog family, he vastly emerged from the restaurant, his
actions speaking louder than his words could have ever.
Alfredo wanted his Lady Liberty, but he just ended up with one of the others.
‘Alfredo, NO!’
She exclaimed with a sense of urgency.
As he emerged into the frigid breeze of New York, he was struck
when he witnessed that his car had been
T
oad
.
Enough
.
For all his life, Alfredo longed for the embrace of New York City. To
be accepted into an urbanised society, where no two people are the
same, where his threads of life would be extended, eternalised.
But no
. What fulfilment did he aspire to now, now that he has
foreseen all of society and how they treat those of the frog nature?
He knew that his very life, his stable state of mind, were hanging
by a thread. Was he ready to cut these threads?
The Statue of Liberty. Big
. Yet Small. Located on Liberty Island
outside of the urbanised New York City, isolated from the rest of its
neighbouring city. That’s how Alfredo viewed his entire life, isolated
from the rest of humanity. He didn’t feel comfortable in the skin he
was gifted with. Being a frog, he felt such a superior difference with
the rest of humanity he felt at times he wanted to cut his threads of
life, and today was the day, so it was off to
the building
where his
journey will end and be reborn at the same time.
As Alfredo boarded the very last Liberty Island ferry, he
contemplated and comprehended his sorrow, arbitrary cycle of life.
If I don’t come back, who will know?
Alfredo hopped veraciously from the rusted, tortured docks of
Liberty Island, defying gravity as he so fiercely emerged underneath
the closed gates of the The Statue of Liberty.
Each step towards the tip of the threads only closed the clocks of
time. Each breathe drew the curtains of life together.
Alfredo reached the highest, northern point of the Statue of
Liberty. What was there to contemplate? His thoughts were merely
Statue of
Ribberty
10