The French Canary’s Womb

The French Canary’s Womb

The weather wasn’t too bad for the third day of March. It was a bit on the cool side at 8 AM, which wasn’t typical for a March day on the Canary Islands. Lucas and Eloise traveled from France and arrived to the islands almost a week earlier and found a smallish rock house that was mostly plaster on the outside to stay in. They both agreed that the square turquoise table on the little front porch was most desirable. Especially with the wicker chairs that accompanied it. It seemed like the perfect place to have a milky coffee as they started their day.

Lucas and Eloise chose this remote spot, with every desire to continue to develop their thesis on creativity. They were both scholars but not very scholarly. Eloise’s brother would often chide both of them as being philosophers looking for a philosophy, with shared existential anxieties and dilemmas. Eloise would counter his unsympathetic attack with “You make me wonder if you weren’t born under the sign of the tree snake. You know, the ones that would gobble up an innocent canary.”

It didn’t make any sense to her brother, as to what she was saying. But he just accepted her nonsensical response. After all, she had ventured into that “zone” many times as they were growing up together. But to her it made perfect logical sense because she knew she was going to be in…