Finally, she brought out a chair. Real all of a sudden, but not quite, she donned sunglasses, drank from several plastic water bottles and tossed them away, and unfolded a newspaper. As she turned the pages, words popped out and bounced away across watery scenes of rivers and streams. The words were water words, and they became more ominous — LAKE, RIVER, ARROYO, FLOOD, TSUNAMI, DESERT. The scenes were of drowned deltas and sand dunes. Finally there was no water, only desert. The woman slumped in her chair, and the stage lights went out, leaving us with projected watery haiku for consolation.
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