The Incarnation of Siduri

sitting at a well called the sandy hut bar. recessed illumination in the back of my head draws out the characters one by one. my eyes flicker before the incarnation of siduri. she is drunk again and you can hear the rain falling heavily on the roof. i look up to view the bright citron dragon painted on the ceiling winding its way along the tiles. a small glass with condensation for thought asked the question. why am i so imperfectly shaped? now i remember all those chinese dive bars with extravagant tiny jade forest. siduri somehow rising off the barstool and walking out the door. " siduri: epic of gilgamesh, alewife and veiled bartender."