Barbed wire hugs the wall behind the young soldier as he plays the cello. How
could he have hustled it through the streets, still filled with looters and thieves?
A single stalk of corn struggles bravely beside the scarred building, audience to a
misplaced world. His cap sits patiently on the stone bench, attentive. Perhaps there it
finds something familiar in the music.
A woman inside the open window of the badly played song wears a scarf and a full
peasant skirt with a light jacket. The soldier’s body leans in, tentative but unwavering.
The moment in which his fate will be sealed.
For a moment only the perpetual banter of leaves and twigs along the overgrown
path consuming the fading tones of the cello, the soldier’s posture unhinged in our
imagination as we try to complete the image of the soldier replacing the cello with the

Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.