windowless study LX

I awoke this morning to find the tree standing upright once more. At first I thought it was free standing but on closer inspection I noticed that attached to each branch was a length of fishing wire, the other end of which was attached to various protruding parts of the street (a chimney pot, a bee hive, one of Mr Tawl's shoelaces). With the help of direct sunlight I counted 53 wires in total, all crisscrossed to hell like 53 evil glances. When the sun retreats behind the clouds these wires are damn-near invisible and the whole day was filled with screams of anguish and torment. At one point I looked out of my window to find nineteen wretched people splayed on the deck at once, writhing around in the mess of wires like an electrocuted bramble bush. Over the scratching and groaning could be the tormented voice of Mr Tawl, who kept screaming something about demented shoelaces.