Pipe-fittings adorn the wall, screen sconce fades its light across antique chests and clean-cut stone counters.
_To some people, the five South American dialects she spoke and translated, sounded like birds clicking and squawking at each other–to her it sounded_
like rain on a summer’s eve.
The house sat in the middle of the rain forest–each piece having been lovingly hauled across the root-covered ground.
_A pebble on the ground caught her attention–she didn’t know the word for “pebble” in this part of the Amazon. She asked, then put it in her pocket. She collected new words like some collected shells._
Her husband had been kidnapped by radical leftist gorillas. How ironic; if anyone would appreciate her industrial decor, it would be them.
_She walked inside the house, pebble in her pocket and ran her hands across the walls, the pipes, the stones. She wanted to live here forever, in her industrial-amazon dreamland._
But not until she rescued her husband.