Plato's Apprentice
By: Ximena Escobar

Threads of his hair billowed, veiling his sight of the Parthenon. Oh, to be Architecture! Majestically permanent and complete!

The apprentice sighed, releasing his ephemeral fulfilment into the breeze—leaves and light stirring, his ever-moving mind shifting from a changing cloud onto the porous rock he sat on—perpetual in its concept but, ironically, constantly eroding with imperceptible Time.

What shape is timelessness, if not rock? Which is death, if not the straight line? Which is life, if not the undular wave only fathomable upon it?

As a snake slithered out from under his seat, time stopped—for the apprentice.


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