EKPHRASIS
Hooded Head. He was sobbing in pain so I killed the blond kid with a swift stab of my spear to his chest, lifted him up a little, then threw him down like a marionette in the sand, to the coarse laughter of my men, enveloping my dormant body further into the fluid play of forms and sounds. It ravaged my heart, I couldn’t look at it, but it was also impossible not to look at it and take in everything: the violence, the smell, the hysteria, to tell you, my mirror image, how it happened.