Complete narrative. To revert to the comic, press the close icon or the Escape key.
Should you wish to send correspondence from a Burmese correctional facility, refrain from entrusting it to the wardens.
This might seem self-evident, yet upon being informed I was permitted two written communications monthly — a missive for my embassy and another for Juliana — my credulity led me to attempt it.
“Throughout the entire night,” I penned to Juliana.
“A harsh fluorescent lamp illuminates swarms of mosquitoes consuming me, making slumber difficult, and as the mosquitoes withdraw, ants infiltrate — forming pulsating lines along the cell’s walls and floor, covering every bit of my skin continuously throughout the day.”
I utilized every square centimeter of the formal correspondence sheet provided.
“Nevertheless, everything is acceptable. I have since grown accustomed to it. My sole desire is to behold you.”
After three days passed…
“Enlarge your script. Furthermore, refrain from mentioning the presence of insects.”
Thus, I made another attempt.
“Juliana-
My affection for you is immense, and your absence is deeply felt. Physically, I am faring adequately, experiencing a general state of wellness — yet, without question, my mental state is challenging…”
“Unacceptable.”
And once more.
“My apologies.”
My initial arrival in Myanmar occurred during early May of 2019, coinciding perfectly with World Press Freedom Day.
Ten years prior, the nation’s military command initiated a limited movement toward democracy which significantly featured the abolition of prior censorship for printed media.
Subsequent to the 2015 elections, wherein the military regime suffered a resounding defeat at the hands of the then-revered, now-deposed democracy figure Aung San Suu Kyi, they commenced transferring segments of governance to her ostensibly civilian government.
Despite its popular mandate, Suu Kyi’s leadership demonstrated an intolerance towards dissenters almost comparable to that of the military, notwithstanding its continued broad popular backing.
Upon my arrival, Reuters reporters Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo had already been incarcerated in the city’s Insein Correctional Facility for a biennium.
In 2017, the year of their apprehension, I earned twelve dollars hourly as a correspondent for a provincial Louisiana publication…
…simultaneously, our freshly chosen head of state directed his wrath towards media gatherings at the rear of his convention venues.
Commentators asserted that American journalism confronted its most severe dangers, and furthermore, it failed to offer a viable income.
My journey to Myanmar was prompted by the belief that, should our direst apprehensions materialize, its journalists might impart valuable insights to me.
While I sought enlightenment in Myanmar, Juliana arrived with the expectation of merely enduring a consular assignment that was not her preferred option.
Our acquaintance began via digital platforms.
“Greetings, Peidão*”
(*an individual who frequently expels intestinal gas)
During our initial rendezvous, while sharing a bottle of ale, we bemoaned the emergence of a worldwide extreme right, and yearned for the vanished idealism of our younger years.
She cited Gramsci and Marx, and I feigned familiarity with their works. I hastened to settle the invoice the moment the beer was depleted, apprehensive of revealing my lack of knowledge.
At our subsequent meeting, we mutually admitted a desire to have requested a second bottle that evening.
Juliana resided solitary within a spacious, three-chamber dwelling funded by her nation’s diplomatic corps.
I dwelled in the city center with a towering 6’3″ British individual who instructed English for three days weekly and dedicated the remaining four to cataloging his most cherished black metal records in online video clips.
Our time was predominantly spent at her residence.
Notwithstanding the worsening state of press freedom, the period appeared imbued with significant optimism.
By May 6th, 2019, subsequent to 511 days spent in the nation’s notorious Insein Penitentiary, Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo gained their freedom.
“I eagerly anticipate returning to my editorial office immediately. My profession is journalism. I intend to persist.”
Moreover, in 2020, national polls were judged equitable and trustworthy by both international and local monitoring bodies.
It seemed as though a significant change was underway, both in Myanmar and the United States.
Juliana’s rental agreement was nearing its conclusion, and notwithstanding the swimming pool and contemporary fittings at her complex, the vibrancy of the city center continued to captivate me.
We discovered a concealed manor nestled amongst the disarray of the venerable Muslim district…
…where evening light infused the kitchen casement with a bronze glow and the muezzin’s summons would punctuate our daily routines.
We felt euphoric…
…and enamored.
“Darling, there is space within… precisely sufficient for two souls inside. My love, there is…”
Urgent Report: Myanmar’s head of state apprehended during coup. Armed forces announce national emergency.”
By February 1st, we were deluged with digital links. The takeover had been inadvertently broadcast live and achieved widespread popularity.
“Have you observed this phenomenon?”
“Hold on… what transpired?”
“She was merely recording an exercise session.”
“CEASE.”
“And the MILITARY TAKEOVER is unfolding directly behind her!”
Collectively, we viewed numerous videos — sourced from across the vast expanse of the web — layering the well-known Myanmar Coup Dancer onto historical events.
Following the military seizure of power, promptly at 8 o’clock every evening, virtually every resident of Yangon emerged and clanged together cookware — utilizing any readily available blunt implements — an age-old method of repelling malevolence, now symbolizing defiance against military governance.
Initially, the demonstrations were exuberant.
Placards: “My former partner is undesirable, yet Myanmar’s military is more so.” “Oh dear, this situation recurs.”
However, until…
“Several weeks of comparatively calm demonstrations became lethal by February 20th when two unresisting demonstrators lost their lives at the hands of security personnel in the municipality of…”
The armed forces initiated incursions into editorial offices.
Among them was my previous employer, the investigative journalism platform Myanmar Now, recognized as one of the nation’s most resolutely anti-military media organizations.
Our acquaintances from the West were departing.
“Might we assist Lorcan in distributing his literary collection?”
We contemplated replicating their actions.
“We have the option to fly to Detroit, reside with my mother and father for a period, and subsequently embark on a road journey to California.”
“I shall encounter your family, the Peidões?”
On a particular evening in April, shortly past 8 o’clock.
A disquieting silence descended upon our thoroughfare.
“Daniel! Retreat!”
A military personnel’s torch beam saturated our dwelling.
I reserved passage to Detroit.
Message to Diplomatic Officer: “Greetings, I am Danny Fenster. I am a United States journalist employed by Frontier Myanmar. I am confident I possess no reason for apprehension, however, I previously held employment at Myanmar Now, and my departure flight from Yangon is scheduled for May 24th. I merely wished to apprise you should any reason for worry exist.”
“Hello Danny, we appreciate you informing us. We possess no intelligence suggesting cause for alarm,
You have provided a ten-day warning, thus your situation ought to be satisfactory.”
Message to Juliana from the air terminal:
“chuckle, these pandemic ensembles
obtained a photograph with the iPad, shall transmit it subsequently
unable to dispatch images using the disposable handset”
Messages from Juliana:
“eagerly anticipate viewing it
yearn for your presence”
“Excuse me… Would DANIEL JACOB FENSTER kindly proceed to the…”
“Daniel Jacob? We possess several inquiries for you, pertaining to…
…a current penal inquiry.”
PEN America Calls for Myanmar to Liberate American Reporter Danny Fenster
“The chief editor of one of the scarce autonomous journalistic agencies was apprehended while trying to embark on an outbound flight
Approximately 4,000 additional individuals have been taken into custody by officials in preceding months…”
The Washington Post
Democracy Perishes in Obscurity
Asia & Pacific
“United States reporter held by Myanmar’s government while attempting to exit the nation
Fenster, aged 37, represents the fourth international correspondent arrested in Myanmar since the armed forces’ takeover in a February coup.
The military administration regularly publicizes rosters of “sought-after” journalists, charging them with impacting “national stability,” and has apprehended over 70 journalists altogether, as per press freedom monitors.”
Committee for the Protection of Reporters
“Myanmar detains American editor Danny Fenster at Yangon air hub
Myanmar’s officials are obligated to promptly and without preconditions liberate Frontier Myanmar’s managing editor Danny Fenster and permit his unimpeded departure from the” [text is cut off]
The Guardian
“American reporter apprehended in Myanmar while embarking on flight homeward
The family of Danny Fenster expresses apprehension for his well-being following his detention by official bodies
in Yangon international airport”
My electronic devices and publications had been confiscated.
“Noon. Quiet Hour.”
Yet somehow, they had overlooked the sepia-toned journal I had been maintaining since January.
The most challenging aspect in those initial days was the monotony. No reports from the external realm were available to divert my thoughts. Nothing to capture my focus.
Thus, I privately penned thoughts.
“FRIDAY, 1pm
The latter parts of the day are the most dreadful. Currently, it is 13:00, and I am confined to my individual chamber for designated ‘rest period.’ Daily, from midday until one-thirty in the afternoon, a period of silence is enforced. We are required to recline on our beds and maintain silence, a regulation I find rather agreeable. I endeavor to stay awake to ensure greater fatigue by evening. It is already difficult to achieve sleep: we are compelled to rest with the illumination active, positioned atop a timber platform furnished with a pair of covers for cushioning. Furthermore, the mosquitos inflict bites, and the ants…”
I made an observation of the incessant downpour…
“Torrents of rain cascaded beyond these confines, inundating the courtyard, transforming yesterday’s garden into a pool — replenishing the stone container and my vessel for potable water”
…alongside my diminutive arthropod associates,
“Always gravitating towards the nook, its limbs sprawled out haphazardly, its slack antennae forming an X, its legs hanging loosely, appearing serene, all strain seemingly vanished; it seems as though beneath, on its arthropod countenance, it must be grinning at its unconsciousness, though naturally it could have succumbed in a drowning, suffocating terror, yet now it is unburdened.”
…my minor triumphs,
“I ‘organized’ my belongings subsequent to today’s questioning. A bag of soiled garments, shirts suspended, and fresh apparel converted into a makeshift cushion from a sweatpant leg.”
…and my escalating apprehension.
“Only two packets of instant coffee remain, and no dentifrice. I must launder some garments shortly.”
Subsequently, a certain day arrived…
The parcel from Juliana served as my initial clue that my whereabouts were known to others. Multiple days were required for its clearance through scrutiny.
I was informed that literature was also included, but the correctional facility’s interpreter first needed to attest to the absence of any governmental subject matter.
Journal entry: “Contemplating the exceptional intellect of my spouse. She almost clairvoyantly incorporated nearly every crucial article I desired. Furthermore, she provided a (new?) hermetically sealed plastic vessel, intended to exclude insects. She undoubtedly discerned the majority of these requirements. I also envision her consulting colleagues and others, querying, ‘What should be placed within a detainee’s package?’”
The hours elapsed…
marked by identical daily schedules,
and infrequent presents.
(Then, at a certain point:)
Correspondence from Juliana:
“Yangon, June 2nd, 2021.
Danny, my dear.
You cannot fathom the extent of my longing for you. I wish to assure you that all is well. Rose and Bud are in good condition and robust. Bryan is exhibiting the spirit of a genuine fighter and is exerting all possible effort from the United States. I, too, am managing as effectively as possible in this location.
I passed the recent evenings solitary in our dwelling, observing my surroundings. Though our relocation here was recent, it feels as if we have resided here for an extended period. I ADORE this abode. I appreciate the ceiling joists, the expansive culinary space. I profoundly cherish the study — I have occupied that space on several occasions to converse with your relatives, with the ventilator directed towards my visage, and I comprehend fully your fondness for that particular area. A blackout occurred recently — enduring for four hours amidst the warmth — I consider this characteristic of embracing the complete Myanmar way of life. I observed a small lizard two evenings prior in our sleeping chamber. I am almost entirely certain a rodent resides in the culinary area (I am aware I mentioned this previously, but the auditory disturbance is now more incessant. I must capture it for you). I am also watching the doves on your behalf. However, I perceive fewer avian creatures on our window ledge — they might have learned of your vacation travels. I no longer frequent the veranda as often in the forenoons, yet I consistently visit it in the afternoons. I harbor this vision of your return to our domicile as the evenings commence, thus I periodically venture there and await. I observe the gentlemen proceeding to the place of worship for the post-meridian devotions, the open-toed footwear — scores of them! — meticulously arranged near the entry point. All things and all individuals are so vibrant. Existence unfolds with its customary bustle as we anticipate favorable tidings, as I anticipate your presence.
Each solitary object in this dwelling brings memories of you to mind, of this segment of our existence. My affection for you is immense.
Kindly pledge to me that you will remain resilient. I am exerting my utmost effort on my end, and I am faring acceptably, I assure you. A minor degree of eccentricity, yet I believe it will enhance my allure.
Adore you, peidão! My affection for you is greater.
Ju.”
Subsequent to the wardens denying my third effort to send formal communication to Juliana, a report circulated regarding an imminent agreement: two individuals associated with an armed ethnic rebellion within my sector would shortly be set free.
I relinquished my written truce with the correctional facility’s reviewers and hastily penned an extensive, disorganized message to Juliana.
“Furthermore, what developments are occurring in global headlines? Within the United States?
Are there any significant narratives?
P.S. kindly dispatch some photographs of yourself!
Items: goddamn cashews!
P.S. — A few more volumes, if you are able to locate them! “What Is History” and “Homo Deus.” The initial one is at Dom’s & the latter is either also at Dom’s or at your residence. In addition, “This Thing of Darkness,” or a similar title, is a literary work Lorcan provided to me prior to his departure. I believe it resides within the valise he presented to me. These would be commendable selections. Do you suppose the United States embassy possesses a copy of “Grapes of Wrath”?
Possessing the ability to consume audio broadcasts and my personal musical selections would render this entire situation immeasurably more tolerable as well — especially the podcasts. Regrettably, I am fairly certain ear-cups & electronic gadgets are prohibited. [frowny face]
My affection for you is immense.
Until we meet again. Kisses and hugs, Danny”
The rebel uttered no Anglais. I desperately wished for him to comprehend my words.
“Kindly, convey this to my spouse.”
The sensation was akin to propelling a message in a bottle into the vast sea.
—
Before an extended period elapsed, the wardens discovered my journals. Writing material and pigment were announced as prohibited items within my sector.
Should I be unable to document the occurrence, what significance did any aspect hold?
I was compelled — potentially for the inaugural occasion since the emergence of the iPhone — to remain seated, through hour upon relentless hour, from one ceaseless minute to the next, devoid of any mental engagement.
Amongst all the dread and unease I suffered within the correctional facility, it was this —
tedium
— which almost shattered my spirit.
A television set existed within our sector, yet available broadcasts were restricted, and entirely in the Burmese tongue regardless.
A monastic Buddhist, one of the few individuals fluent in English present, recounted that they formerly viewed BBC and Discovery Channel. However, on the daybreak of the governmental overthrow, the broadcast transmission was entirely severed.
Upon its restoration, merely governmental transmissions persisted.
“That is how we ascertained the armed forces had reasserted authority.”
On a particular day, I observed an inmate tampering with an object.
The cleric clarified that in exchange for merely a few thousand kyat or a small quantity of betel nuts, correctional officers supplied inmates with USB drives laden with Chinese martial arts films and Indian song-and-dance productions, or brief TikTok videos depicting individuals being struck in the groin. A few even possessed compact digital audio players upon which they heard prohibited melodies.
I commenced devising plans without delay.
Upon preparing for my journey to Detroit, I had inadvertently left a Zoom H1n recording device containing a microSD card upon my work surface.
I searched diligently throughout the prison sector for writing material, and, employing a prohibited writing instrument, I composed a message to Juliana detailing the precise whereabouts of the recording device. I compiled rosters of every audio broadcast I wished to listen to.
Upon the conditional release of a different captive, I imposed the messages upon him, accompanied by an additional city plan.
Subsequently, I endured a period of anticipation.
…
“Monk?”
“Be seated.
Direct your concentration toward the extremity of your nasal organ….
…the feeling of ingress and egress through your nasal passages.”
For a quarter of an hour, the cleric observed my arduous efforts.
It seemed insurmountable.
“Perform this exercise immediately upon rising every dawn, and for a duration of five minutes at the commencement of each hour, at a minimum during the initial hours of the day…
Subsequently, once this task proves facile, extend these hourly periods to ten minutes, then to fifteen.”
Gradually…
…a capacity to endure tedium permeated my conscious hours.
I was able to observe my cogitations
flow
from a single idea to its successor.
I pondered the events that had led to my presence in Myanmar. I had desired to gain knowledge from reporters positioned
up to unimaginable repression.
Nonetheless, I found myself scrutinizing the entire purpose of journalism. It seemed our challenges weren’t caused by an absence of trustworthy news or concrete information.
Relocating overseas represented my final attempt to extract some significance from my profession, hoping it would allow me to continue in it.
Upon my arrival, however, I was primarily inundated by Myanmar’s complex political landscape, a nation hosting over 20 distinct ethnic armed groups and numerous additional militias even prior to the coup, each entangled in their own internal conflicts for dominance. I perceived myself as unqualified and mispositioned.
Who was truly equipped to narrate the chronicle of this region?
Consequently, I assumed the position of editor, assisting indigenous authors and correspondents in conveying their experiences to a global English-speaking audience.
Yet, during my lowest moments, I continued to ponder whether any of it held genuine importance.
Concurrently..
Post:
“@amykurzweil
On Monday, May 24th, my relative Danny Fenster was detained by the armed forces in Myanmar for the alleged “offense” of being a reporter. We have had no contact with him whatsoever since then. Here’s what you can do:
1) Disseminate the information! Circulate the picture! Use my depiction, or create your personal drawing of Danny! Publish with the tag #BringDannyHome.
2) Endorse the appeal connected in my bio. We are urging top-tier officials to…”
I had inadvertently become a narrative originating from Myanmar.
[A compilation of social media updates showcasing artwork of Danny’s likeness and the hashtag #BringDannyHome]
One afternoon, within a temporary military tribunal housed inside the correctional facility, an empathetic interpreter covertly displayed a screenshot to me.
“@RELIABLESOURCES CNN
RELATIVES OF IMPRISONED AMERICAN REPORTER ISSUE STATEMENT”
Facebook entry:
“Bryan Fenster is with Cara Quinn and 2 others
Day 66. A belated briefing, and one I would prefer to be more encouraging. Yesterday morning, we found out that Danny had a proceeding on Monday, which neither the U.S. Embassy in Rangoon, our kin, nor his legal counsel had any knowledge of. He was again sent back to the detention center, and as yet, no formal accusations have been leveled.”
“Bryan Fenster is with Buddy Fenster and 2 others
Day 92. Yet another proceeding has transpired, and once more we are in limbo. Danny continues to be incarcerated..”
“Bryan Fenster is with Ethan Kurzweil and 4 others.
Day 100. This day brings a distressing landmark; it signifies the centennial day since my younger sibling, Danny Fenster, was unjustly held in Myanmar, seemingly, merely for being a member of the press. Today, as with every day, we are imploring the armed forces in Myanmar to liberate Danny for compassionate reasons and permit him to rejoin us at home.”
[A sequence of remarks from social platforms]
“Dominic Horner
Extending abundant affection to you and your kin”
“Jane Gleeson
Forwarding ongoing supplications and fondness!”
“Julie Muszynski
My deepest sympathies for all of you…”
“Kim Maher
Offering supplications [praying hands emojis]”
“Linda Finkelburg
Remain resilient. Your endeavors shall triumph.”
“Lisa Harris
[praying hands emojis]
“Nathan Maung
[A more extensive compilation of scores of social media updates showcasing artwork of Danny’s likeness and the hashtag #BringDannyHome]
On occasions when the downpour abated, I would pass the twilight hours gazing out in the direction I surmised was the residence of Juliana and myself.
I envisioned her potential activities at that precise moment.
Should I focus with sufficient intensity, I believed I could genuinely establish contact with her.
…
“Consignment.”
[A guard, whose face is unseen, presents Danny with a comfort parcel from Juliana. He unseals a pouch of coffee to discover a concealed message within one of the sachets.]
Memo: “Cereal bar. TAL. Adore you.”
[Danny extracts the carton of cereal bars, unseals it, and empties the individually packaged bars. He scrutinizes and handles each bar, evidently searching for something concealed. He appears disheartened, and subsequently gazes into the void container to find a minuscule microSD card affixed within.]
It required numerous days of entreaties and inducements until another incarcerated individual could assist me in arranging an hourly rental agreement for an MP3 player from one of the fellow inmates.
I proceeded back to my confinement chamber with as much nonchalance as possible.
[Danny places the microSD card into the MP3 device and increases the sound level.]
“Darling, there’s ample space within…
Sufficient for merely a pair inside…”
The sound was Juliana’s vocalization.
“There’s no one but you and I present here…”
I reiterated it repeatedly. Time and again.
“…indeed, what might we accomplish in this space…”
“I cherish you, darling. I yearn for you profoundly.”
Sketch on paper:
“My attempts with the images were unsuccessful, so I shall endeavor once more with Amy’s illustration.
I adore you, sweetheart. Immensely.
Remain resolute, for my sake, for our sake!
CHERISH YOU,
Ju”
In some manner, Juliana had furthermore acquired the complete three-decade repository of my preferred audio series and compressed it onto that tiny memory card. The instant I ceased replaying her song, I discerned another recognizable vocalization…
“From WBEZ Chicago… It is THIS AMERICAN LIFE. I am Ira Glass… remain tuned…”
For an undisclosed motive (which Juliana would subsequently assert was unintentional), the inaugural installment to broadcast was from 2011, Segment 448:
“Expedition!”
In the initial segment, an expatriate Minnesotan identified as “Luke” becomes embroiled in a small street skirmish in Shenzhen, China, subsequently escaping. Several days thereafter, law enforcement officers arrive to pose inquiries, and then proceed to confine him.
“It was, as I recall, a Tuesday. I entered, and they stated, ‘We will return on Friday to inform you of the situation.’ And truthfully, at that juncture, I anticipated my liberation on Friday…
“… My thought was, fine, three evenings, four evenings, this presents no difficulty. I consider myself somewhat of an intrepid spirit. At this stage, I remain quite composed. Like, well, I am incarcerated in a Chinese prison, this is astonishing, yet what an anecdote.”
“Ultimately, what was the duration of your occupancy within this confinement facility?”
“Eight lunar cycles…
Eight lunar cycles.”
“The enclosure was a rectangular space, measuring 10 by 15 feet… Amidst tempests, one found no refuge from the driving rain, thus everyone would become thoroughly soaked…
…waking at 7, followed by the morning meal…
…a watery rice concoction…
…a siesta from 11:30 to 1:30…
…The passage of time became monotonous — tedium interspersed with sporadic bursts of intense sentiment.”
“In archetypal tales of exploration, such as The Odyssey, amusement is scarce. There is suffering, apprehension, and mortality, and infrequently, if fortune smiles…
…minor alterations.”
On a Friday afternoon that November, inside a military tribunal located within the correctional facility’s grounds, I was convicted of a multitude of obscure transgressions, among them affronting the armed forces, and condemned to eleven years of arduous work.
I was escorted to the correctional office, divested of my civilian attire, and clothed in institutional uniforms.
By the moment I returned to my confined space, the other inmates had been secured for the night. I passed that twilight hour feeling forlorn and weeping, attempting to grasp the magnitude of an eleven-year term.
Such an endeavor proved futile, and thus by the dawn, I had persuaded myself that, in fact, a conviction was a prerequisite for a pardon.
“For what other reason would they administer a Covid examination?”
As anticipated, on Monday morning, I was roused from slumber ahead of all others.
“Gather your belongings.”
I was never afforded the opportunity to bid farewell.
By that dusk, Burmese law enforcement officers were transferring me to a cluster of individuals, among them the departed Bill Richardson, erstwhile governor of New Mexico, who had forged a subsequent vocation brokering the liberation of Americans held in foreign lands. They indicated a private aircraft was awaiting me on the tarmac outside.
A half-year had elapsed.
Non-citizens not directly expelled from detention were required to reserve their travel passes a full ten days prior to their exit, enabling the authorities to track entries and departures.
Danny via telephone: “Hello darling… Not a great deal… What is recent with you?”
November 15th, 2021: Juliana secured her passage that evening.
I believed I had traveled to Myanmar to ascertain methods for vanquishing authoritarian rulers, yet Burmese journalists understood instinctively that such triumphs are perpetually impermanent.
“The New York Times
American Reporter Danny Fenster Liberated From Myanmar Confinement
The emancipation marked an uncommon favorable turn of events in the nation, which has been ravaged by strife since a February putsch.”
“The Detroit Jewish News
At Liberty: Following a Half-Year in a Myanmar Penal Facility, Reporter Rejoins His Relatives in Huntington Woods”
“Deadline Detroit
Amidst Embraces And A Trim, Danny Fenster Reacclimates In A Customary Dwelling Near Detroit – His Kin’s”
“MICHIGAN
Fenster subsequent to his liberation from Myanmar: ‘I am genuinely delighted to be en route to my abode’
Detroit News personnel and syndicated reports”
“BBC
Danny Fenster: American reporter released from Myanmar detention”
The imperative is to persist in chronicling regardless..
“Bryan Fenster is accompanied by Amy Kurzweil and 4 others.
November 17, 2021
Day 178. Sweet Sanctuary. #BringDannyHome”
to document for the morrow…
…the narratives that the current conquerors would rather we consign to oblivion.
“Hello Dan?
Would you mind basting the fowl? I am headed to my cycling session.”
“Alright.”
“Also, the Rubins are on the lower level – they wish to greet you.
The Detroit Jewish News will arrive around 4. They merely desire a photograph, then they will depart.”
“Understood, Mo—”
“At what hour does she arrive?”
“Presently.”
For endurance of hardship is disagreeable, so one merely recounts…
“Daniel!”
“I scarcely credit your return home!”
“Your topknot is gone!”
“You succeeded!”
“We are immensely pleased by your presence.”
“Mmmmwah! So dashing!”
“Whew!”
“Hello Dan… Father is expecting you in the vehicle.”
And occasionally, if destiny favors you…
…you discover, within the narration…
…that hardship underwent a metamorphosis.
[Danny and Juliana are reconnected at the aerodrome, clasping each other.]
{content}
Source: {feed_title}