The Lake
of Dissolved Effigies
By
Kevin S. Mahoney
It
was one of those things no one thought about, like the lint under the
refrigerator, or who cut their barber’s hair.
Thousands were made, every year, in any location that would support the
art form. Generation schooled generation
on the process, families united in cold purpose. Every form was unique. Each artifact was personalized, sculpted by
its creators from their environment.
Each building block was unlike every other one, from the macroscopic to
the microscopic level. Molecules were
connected, melding from the warmth of the people, changing according to their
whims, each form distinct and temporary.
