“It was the year he began to wonder about the noise that colors make. Roses came roaring across the garden at him. He lay on his bed at night listening to the silver light of stars crashing against the window screen.”
– Anne Carson, from Autobiography of Red
…“Most of those he interviewed for the science project had to admit they did not hear the cries of the roses being burned alive in the noonday sun. Like horses, Geryon would say helpfully, like horses in war.”
“I’m sorry,” I state with tremendous feeling, suddenly recalling the rest of this quote & existence of Autobiography of Red, the Anne Carson mythic verse novella about the only other character named Gery/eon I’ve ever known, a fragile-souled monster boy with red wings who grew up under the hand of his abusive older brother. “I am terribly sorry?” I say again, confrontationally!