In Detention, I

"They deceived us, and deceived themselves, the quiet-voiced elders, bequeathing us merely a receipt for deceit." said Loo, feeling almost all-knowing, almost sorry, once she reached the end of Four Quartets, wondering when her story shall begin. And it already did, and she didn't feel it. And it wasn't fully hers, and she didn't know. One knows very little, these days.

This narrative poem has four parts, meant to form a unified whole. It is uninspired. It has no heroes and no villains. Its characters are fragments of an unfiltered imagination. Any resemblance between them and real people is coincidental.