Zelda's Inferno exercise: use one or more of the following phrases (randomly selected from a newspaper) as a base, and write from it:
meandering local roads twist and turn
the ability to be by themselves
guaranteed room upgrade
the only detail that stands out
people drew lots to find out
the local roads twist and turn and you can't see where you're going, what's
around the corner, a hill or a valley or a big truck coming
the other way or a deer standing in the middle of the pavement or...
the local roads twist and turn like the small intestine, like their job was to
absorb you rather than to get you from one place to another,
so that by the time you get to the end all the nutrients would be drained from you...
the local roads twist and turn like the words in Joyce's Ulysses, you make a bit
of progress and then bam! the direction changes, you're headed a different way,
and just when you figure that out bam! changes again
the local roads twist and turn like folding origami
the local roads twist and turn like the plot of a British farce
the local roads twist and turn like that ball of twine I always end up with,
a nice neat coil somehow turned into a three-dimensional labyrinth
the local roads twist and turn like the path a pachinko ball takes
down the face of the machine
the local roads twist and turn like a cat's cradle. See the cat? See the cradle?
All I wanted was the ability to be by myself at the end of the day, a guaranteed single room, my own temporary space where I could close the door and have the city -- the whole city, even if it was the city I'd come to visit -- be outside for a few hours. But that was somehow complicated by the front desk, as if each guest who came up to them was a source of mystery, requiring long deliberation and consultation of the oracles and the casting of lots before each could be assigned to their room.