Brush it under the rug, she said,
How mother? I don’t know how to sweep,
Just follow my lead, hold the broom as I do,
and sweep.
Left to right, right to left,
back to front, front to back,
corner to corner,
all under the rug.
And repeat.

Like this mother.  
Left to right, right to left,
back to front, front to back,
corner to corner,
all under the rug.

You missed a spot.
I did?
It’s stuck.  It won’t go under the rug.
Just twirl your broom,
twirl it like a ballerina.
Trust me, it will all go away.
Just brush it,
all under the rug.

Look mother I did it.
I’m twirling just like a ballerina.

That’s better, much better.
See, it’s all gone.
The house is all clean now.

Mother, but is it?
It’s all still in the house.
It’s all still underneath the rugs.  


Oh my dear, my little dear one,
but of course it’s gone.
Can you see any dirt now, my dear?
No.
So, then it’s clean.
It’s all gone now,
all underneath the rugs. 

If you can’t see it,
then no one else can.
That’s what’s most important, my dear:
An apparently clean house.

10 years later.

Mother, where are you?
I can’t see you.  
I think we need a new house.
I can’t get to the door.
The rugs are too high,
like mountains now,
the air too thin now,
like mountains too.
I can’t breathe,
too much dust, and dirt.

Mother, I don't think our house looks clean anymore.
There’s no more room under the rugs.
No more room to brush.

We need to move to a new house, my dear.
And buy new rugs.
No mother,
We need to clean.