A man walking west suddenly with raised fist shouts
—Damn you, Truth, why must you hide among thickets!
Toward him then with blank eyes the denizen chuckle among themselves, oddly, not pointing. He resembles a malformed child with large hands walking a clockwork dog through a field of razors and daisies.
Yet, this is not what moves them to jeer.
Neither is it the voice with which he shouted, which sounds like a lame foot being dragged across moist pebbles.