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Message: <blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2622625" data-attributes="member: 63">Sialia, I am struck at how you and I seemed to have written the same story. The dancing woman is a symbol of rebirth -- the end of one year and the beginning of another, or the cycle of phoenix from old age to death to youth. The handprints are a reflection of something lost -- in your story they are a story to try to make sense of things dying and bring some joy to replace the sadness, in mine they are of memories forgotten and ultimately groundlessness.The rat becomes a symbol of hope and uncertainty -- the possibility that he might live on or at least be loved while he is here, or an a possibility for someone to escape being trapped. Even the towers are in both stories symbols of a prison, though in mine they are merely a barrier to freedom that can still be seen beyond them. We both wrote stories that are about being weighed down, being trapped, about beauty being taken away, seen only in glimpses. And in those glimpses, we both show a reason to break free of the prison. There is death and loss, and neither of us can negate the possibility for hope in the end, but both stories end in a sort of frightened uncertainty. It surprised me, though, that your most compelling image was one that wasn't even an illustration -- the pale girl and her son. In a way, it's a perfect cap on the story, that the most compelling image is unseen, leaving only an outline.I loved your story. I have always admired economy of language. Your story was poetry. Happy belated birthday.</blockquote>

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