An angel, fallen from above, lies hopeless in a cold, wet chicken coop.
With this thought, a picture begins projecting in my mind.
Rain is pouring down, crushing his once white wings.
It was as if the rain refused to let him fly. His feathers sagged with a sense of defeat.
The angels body had sunk into the soft earth, creating a snarled and crooked "mud angel".
A variety of feathers were strewn about the ground of the coop like paper confetti.
But this image I had of the fallen angel was not a joyous one.
Instead it was very somber, and suggested a dark curiosity to the unknown.
In the story "The Very Old Man with Enormous Wings," I feel the reader is given a chance at creating their own magic using Marquez's writing and its imagery.
For your viewing and listening pleasure..
For your viewing and listening pleasure..
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