First off, let me say the Central Valley is in a heatwave the week I wrote this, and
maybe it’s my overcooked braining trying to come up with something.
Enjoy.
The tale is about Inez, shrouded in an enigma, encased in a mystery, or perhaps it's a poem.
It is told in the present tense.
The narrative begins with a girl visiting a gallery. As she peruses the art, she halts to admire two similar pots, styled in a Southwestern style, facing each other.
"Oh, look at those pots," she exclaims.
The gallery manager approaches. "Do you appreciate the art?"
"Yes, who is the creator?" she inquires.
"The artist is Inez," he replies. "He's in the back."
"Could you introduce me to him?"
"Certainly, I will fetch him." The manager departs and soon returns with a tall, slender man with long, loose black hair. "Meet Inez."
Inez hands the girl a piece of paper. "Please read this."
"Is it a poem?" As she reads the note, it reveals:
Inez
Inez
Inez
Art pots lead to a revelation, the revelation leads to Inez.
Inez is the revelation, yet the secret of the revelation is also Inez.
"I'm perplexed," the girl admits.
"Peruse it once more," he suggests.
After another read, she confesses, "I'm still baffled, and now I've developed a headache."
"Read on."
With each read, her headache intensifies, and she feels overwhelmed.
"Continue, you're nearing the truth."
Upon another read, she gasps. "The answer is clear. You are Inez!"
He nods affirmatively. "Inez is invariably the answer."
