The only possible response to this is spelled in special characters: '#@*'
It was the witching hour. Midnight.
The witches weren’t sure why their hour had to be so late.
More than one cauldron bubbled with coffee.
-A Small Fiction
Thanks to my witty brother-in-law, I’ve recently become a fan of A Small Fiction, a collection of ‘micro-stories’ doled out in Twitter-size (140 characters or less) portions. Across a broad range of topics, ASF endeavors to relate interesting stories, usually including a clever twist, albeit with severely limited word counts.
You might think fiction this small would struggle to engage the reader, or to express complex ideas. In my opinion, you’d be wrong. In fact, I think such an economy of words forces the writer to make much more specific-and thus, more interesting-choices. For example:
‘Is it miserable being tamed?” Wolf said. ‘Oh, yes, so sad,’ said Dog. Dog had seen Wolf peeking wistfully in the window at belly rub time.
-A Small Fiction
I love the dog showing sympathy for the wolf. I love the wolf trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want what he wants. I love that the writer fits the whole story arc into three sentences. I enjoy the craft of ‘small’. Bigger is not always better.
This is just as true for wine as it is for words. And although ‘big’ wines will probably always dominate blind tastings, I often find it’s the little wines which I remember most fondly, wines that weren’t particularly bold, or tannic, or oaky, or sweet, but balanced and graceful and just plain enjoyable.
If you’re interested in trying little, ask us. We’d be happy to recommend some current favorites. You might go home with the peachy, apricot-y goodness of a Cotes-du-Rhone Blanc. Or a marvelous cru Beaujolais, a Fleurie best drunk lightly chilled. Then again, maybe you’ll pick a soft, juicy Italian Dolcetto. Or one of a dozen other choices.
Whatever you choose, sit down. Relax. Crack open that bottle and pour yourself a glass. Then look up A Small Fiction.