Girija Tropp

What I do with gravel image is shrink the size and put it behind my head otherwise I can feel the accident all over again. I believe God saved me. Sprinted over and lifted me up. He had red hair and was wearing Speedos.

In the tarot deck, the Heirophant holds the possibility of mysteries, not the one of my grudges and gains but a deeper one. These visions are sacred. I believe that I can cause others to see them.

Peter visited. His hair was so blonde my teeth ached. Put away those crutches, he said. I resented this. Did I ask for his advice? He is or was on the way out of my emotions.

The bamboo outside wants to be superior to the one over the fence. My hip is aching. I massage it and look and look and look for a matching uplifting energy. Whether it is the sun pushing serotonin into cells or the cup of coffee or the thought of dinner with Speedos, my head sizzles. Receiving sacred instruction, I immediately fall towards marketing, struggle to make a theory, how much money could be made. Slow down, the mother in me advises, learn to walk upright.

Girija Tropp, winner of the Josephine Ulrick Award for short fiction, has fiction in Best Australian Short Stories, Agni and others. She lives in Melbourne.

To link to this story directly: http://wigleaf.com/201009levelling.htm

Detail of painting on main page courtesy of Brendan Garbee.

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