Emotion 365: Loss, the Underground Warren of Lost

In Loss, marmot families live snug and silent packed together. When briefly above, they whistle and call. They eat the roots of flowers. They dig nests. They burrow together in humid clumps. No one accidentally arrives, but beings reborn as marmots go on to to live short marmot lives. When they return to their previous life or awake in their next life, they carry the knowledge of the marmot city within their marmot heart. No one forgets what it is to be marmot. Still, lost on marmot slurries, the reawakened hear indecipherable whistles and calls.

“What was it like in marmot city?”
“It was dark, crowded, and silent. Yet, I liked it there somehow.”
“What do you mean you were there?”
“No, not really. I only imagine.”

With a piece of my marmot heart.

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Shel Graves' Sensorium

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