Shantih Journal 3.1 - Page 125

At the far end of a small booth was a window, curtained. A sign promised that for a small coin dropped in the slot below, the veil would be lifted. Everyone was searching for change. We stayed, more or less patiently, in our party line. We were invited to party all night long, to be partners in crime, to identify parts of speech. Would the waters of the sea part before us in our hour of need? There were rumors of partisan fighters hiding in the woods outside. We feared falling apart. Would our presence be registered? We were directed to come to community centers, school gymnasiums, church social halls, prison cell blocks. We were asked: Do you prefer to be ruled by jack boot or iron fist? Check this box if you would like to contribute $3 towards a velvet glove. 125