17 May 2012
She sits, quite literally, stone still. People sit on her, take photos of her, their bright, flashing cameras blinding her momentarily. they throw things at her, rocks, food. Then the seagulls come. She hates the seagulls, they scream and shout at her. Eat things off her. Stand on her head, shoulders, arms, legs, anywhere they like. Because she can't move. Can't, or won't. She doesn't know which. She doesn't know if it's possible or not, she's never tried. She never has moved, and she knows she never will. She is, the statue.
The Statue • Opuss № I