affame_le_geant_friend_for_life fyn gula "what is love and what is hate? why does it even matter? the universe will have its way." ~the flaming lips at thora valentine's sink, the water ran the temperature that gods submerge their tired bodies, relaxing the souls that question the universe and find answers in the drawings of children. the madrill watched her blood swirl about in the drain's vortex and disappear like all the tension she previously felt. her injured hand, with the stains removed, revealed an angry wound, a little larger than a centimeter with a sliver of glass sticking out just enough for the bluejay woman to grab it and yank with a pair of tweezers. the madrill winced slightly, watching fresh blood flow from the cut like water bubbling from the saturated spring earth. "it's a nasty one," thora valentine said, and she was not exaggerating. they both watched the blood coating the palm of the madrill's hand. it was more than obvious that she required medical attention. "but i think a few stitches is all you need to be back to your old self." tora said, looking straight into the madrill's eyes. she loved her face, especially the blue. it reminded her of saturday mornings as a child, waking to endless bright skies when fun was easy. "if it was just that easy," the madrill thought to herself. her old self was being a graduate student at the fine arts department of carnegie mellon university studying balthus, spending afternoons at 61c with the ibook plugged in,writing dissertations on on collage art and self-discovery and listening to the raveonettes, the extremely self-confident danish duo on her new ipod. "do you want me to take you to montlespoules? they have the closest emergency facility." thora valentine asked. she wrapped the madrill's hand with crisp, white gauze from her green cross zee medical supply box that hung conveniently on the wall next to a roll of recycled paper towels. there was also a poster of sasha maurer's work, framed. it was the one from 1937, advertising winter sports in new england. the madrill thought for a moment. it would be good to get out of montamore, especially since she was considered a troublemaker. plus, the stench of puppertwinkle's rotting flesh was no doubt raising eyebrows and creating a stir along the grapevine of this small village. who knows what fonecalls were already made concerning her mysterious presence and the concealed items in her patagonia shoulderbag? and then again: what if the emergency centre in montlespoules was already alerted of her possible visit since plasimento, the foxhead lady, and the kapuchean-headed skaterboy/stockboy and who knew else already were privy to the cut on her hand. sure she was paranoid, but being busted with possession of a separated flesh-from-skeleton was punishable by death upon conviction. and so, a dilemma. "one thing for sure," the madrill thought to herself, "i can trust this bluejay lady. anyone who listens to fursaxa, (for that was what was playing on the in-store sony mp3 system.) is definately reliable and won't turn my coniving ass into the authorities." as thora valentine applied adhesive tape to the bandage, the madrill wondered if perhaps thora herself could do the stitching or maybe she knew someone that could. the question was posed. "well, i'm a bit squeemish when it comes to needles and blood and besides we don't have anything here as an anesthetic. but, my husband's brother is a doctor and he is conveniently home on vacation putting an addition on his chateau in montlapines. do you want to go there?" sometimes there are people we meet and we know from the very first time we speak to them that we will be friends forever. we will watch their children grow. we will house sit when they vacation in canada. we will attend picnics in their forest hide-away. we will cry when their grandmothers die. "that is a most excellent idea," the madrill said. she looked down at her bandaged hand and a blood stain was forming shaped exactly lie a heart. "good." thora said, and for some odd reason she kissed the madrill on the cheek. "you're going to just love my brother-in-law, hem. he's very cool. " the madrill smiled. "sorry about the stink in my bag. i have a load of brussel sprouts and they desperately need refridgerated. think i could put them in your flower cooler while we're gone?" the madrill asked. "what stink? but, sure." thora said. "it's right over here." 030106 what's it to you? who go blather from