Edgar Allan Poe's Use Of Hyperbole

the man who works for the seven-eleven on the corner he still wears his white hen apron every morning and this morning in particular, it’s slow, so to pass time he decides to draw a picture of himself from the cosmic perspective underneath the counter, behind coffee filter replacements and confiscated counterfeits he untangles some yellow, wide-ruled notebook paper folds it, flips it horizontally and on the right end he writes “hyperbole north”, and near the left end he writes “hyperbole south”, and in the middle he writes “seven-eleven” and then a customer is ready to be rung up when they’re gone, he takes his hyperbole map back out, stares at it for a while, and begins drawing barely visible lines, strings if you will connecting seven-eleven, and the hyperboles
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your tree looks ambivalent; I can’t tell which way it’s growing or if it’s even growing at all” it had started to look like a tree, she was right.
“you’re right. Do you know what it feels like to feel two entirely opposite ways at the exact same time?” she thought for a second, then-
“I think that’s the difference between ‘being’ and ‘becoming’” after lunch he went back to his map flipped it over, held it vertically instead and started a new drawing at the bottom, soil, because you need to start somewhere then deep, dark roots growing a magnificent trunk giving way to incredibly powerful, secure branches blooming beautiful leaves underneath a shining new sun and what he imagined an endless blue sky and then floating, near the top of the