Canvas Poems の小説・ストーリー

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." P.B Shelley

He wiped me down with clumsy care, taught himself to cook plain porridge, and slept on a narrow folding chair by my bed every night, fully dressed, just to be near. The day I was discharged, sunlight bathed the seaside town in gold. Nathan pushed my wheelchair, a cashmere blanket he had bought draped over me. Six months later, he rented the only art gallery in town and sponsored my very first solo exhibition. He named it 'Rebirth'. The bright, spacious hall was filled with the work I had poured my soul into for half a year. Storm-dark seas before a tempest. Iridescent light shimmering on rocks after rain. A daisy blooming toward the sun from a bookstore window.