The Walker

Placing her hands flat just under her eyes, she looked over the field.  She blinked in the sun, and resumed.  The fertile aroma of the grass and earth wafted upward; the air was humid.  Her feet were dirty, but she did not seem to notice. Neither did she mind the sun.

The field was to her right. The trail was shaded on the left by trees, on the other side of which lay another pasture. 

The field extended up a gradual slope until it reached a high point upon which a few trees stood. A pair of crows flew from one tree to the next.  The trail on which she was traveling also ascended, though at a shallower angle.

She continued on up the trail.  She thought for a moment of the friend who had wanted to join her.  She stopped again and looked again at the summit of the field, about a quarter mile distant.

A short while later she reached the high point of the trail.  A ridge ran between the point where she stood and the small stand of trees at the top of the field.  She contemplated the continuation of the trail, sloping down to a partly-shaded stream.  Then she continued onward.

The Runner

He started; after a few minutes he reached an even rhythm.  He became aware only of his breathing, then he was aware of almost nothing. All he heard was the even mechanics of his feet striking the ground.

He reached the summit of the hill, and paused a second or two before hurdling down the opposite slope.  Nothing was audible to him now.

Near the bottom he was overwhelmed by his own speed and force, and he began to stumble.  He leaned backwards, lengthened his stride, and at last prevented himself from falling.  He slowed to a walk.  He touched his face, but the feeling was unfamiliar.  His breathing was preternaturally loud.

The Man

He sat on his haunches with an unfixed forward gaze. The blinking of his eyes was his only movement. Then he mechanically unfolded his "Diario de Mexico" and read: "Unknown Person Thrown From Bridge...After his throat had been cut, a man of unknown identity was apparently thrown from the bridge near the colonia S.  No suspects have been discovered, though authorities have been questioning residents of the colonia S. in an effort both to discover the victim's identity and to get a lead on possible suspects."

His eyes resumed their gaze.  He refolded the newspaper four times to form a dirty rectangle, resting it on his lap.

The Indifferent People (poem)

We were the handsomest people of any nation
Look at us --
Do you find our gathering places possible to bear?
Look at them, and what do you admire?
They will not notice; it will be as if you are not visible at all
It is they whom you notice
They do not seek regard: it comes already in a quantity that is satisfying
Are you looking for someone else's regard, though you do not believe that you do?
Why do you seek notice now?

The faces are twisted, the bodies lacking in form
Not inhuman or always vulgar, confusing the matter
Yet you do not embrace it, while not removing yourself
It is a partnership in the shadows, open-ended, and if you were wiser you could finish with it
But you are lodged into a space, and one would rather not be freed from a place like this
If there is no objection you could loudly raise

You seek recognition for your ordinary acts
You think them extraordinary, but don't dare boast
And so you go in circular motion
You don't conceive of a trap, where you stand untroubled
That is, if fated, without concern

Murthwell's Afternoon

James Murthwell looked to the side, then got over the fence. The air was humid and the foliage below was thick. He did not think of the time.

The hillside was almost a wilderness from where Murthwell stood. As it did not lead anywhere other than the river, people did not try to go down its face.

Murthwell found an opening. Thorns scratched and stung him as he went down. But he was able to keep his footing. After a few moments he smelled the water; cool air wafted upwards. He held on to the roots that stuck out of the earth. He began to feel far away.

He went down steadily. The surroundings had become dark in the shade. The only sound was the shrill rustling of the leaves and the steady, distant roar of the current. He panted and labored to find a way to balance himself.

He did not think of how he would climb back up. It would be difficult. It would be awkward explaining where he had been. He would not think of that.

He was about four feet above the water's level when the ground gave way and he landed heavily on the narrow river bank. When he righted himself he noticed the air was cooler; a steady breeze blew over him.

From this place the city could not be heard or seen. He could have gone unnoticed here. He watched the muddy water flow past. Then he looked up at the green bluff.

The thought of returning caused him to hesitate. He would have to raise himself from the bank back on to solid ground. He was not used to surmounting such obstacles, so he began to think. If assistance found him, it would be because he had failed in his attempt to return. It would be an embarrassment to him.

He grabbed hold of a sapling and pulled himself up the embankment. He lay for a moment on the ground. He had had to use all his strength.

He did not consider how he would explain himself. He stood up and found his footing, and began to pull himself upwards. Once he had found a sort of rhythm it was not difficult to climb the slope.

He thought of jaunts similar to this one he had taken when he was small: he would not have been burdened with the what-had-come and the what-is-to-come. A warm sensation ran through his limbs, and he felt a kind of freedom.

He emerged and climbed back over the fence. The sky was cloudless and the sun had receded; it was late. A light shone in the front room of the house. His wife's guest had not left. Murthwell entered through the front door.

His wife smiled. The guest -- a woman -- glanced at him. Murthwell became reserved.

His wife did not speak of the time he had been gone. He went into the kitchen and looked out the window for a few moments. He came back to the front room and sat opposite his wife and their visitor. They conversed a short time.

The guest moved to depart. She stood up and exchanged words of parting with Murthwell's wife; with nicety the guest also said good-bye to Murthwell. The women left the room together. Murthwell heard warm, indistinct words. The front door closed; there was a hush. His wife came back and addressed him, then went into the kitchen.

Murthwell did not follow her. He went upstairs and sat at the end of the bed; he recalled standing on the river's sandy edge, gazing across the hazy water, unseen.