words and space, selected and arranged
(page 14)
Even though they found some blank pages, the readers refused to close the book, and kept turning the pages for more. No matter what the story tried, it could not trick the readers into giving up.
"Maybe if I became the most boring story in the world," said the story, "the readers would finally leave me alone."
Once upon a time there was a rock. It was not a very interesting rock. The rock was not red or green. It was a plain, dirty, gray rock--the kind of rock no one ever notices.
The rock was on the ground. The ground was not very hot, and it was not very cold. There were a few white clouds in the sky, but it was not raining, and it was not too dry.
Nothing was happening. No one was touching the rock. No one was looking at the rock. No one was thinking about the rock.
The next day, the rock was still in its place on the ground. The weather had not changed. No one had thought about the rock. No one had looked at the rock. No one had touched the rock.
Everything was the same the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and every day until everyone was so bored that they stopped counting days.
Even the readers who were reading about the rock stopped thinking about the rock. The rock was so boring that no one even noticed there was a story about the rock. Nothing happened, so it didn't even seem to be a story at all, and all the readers closed the book and went straight to bed.