The man from our town not that long ago. He was perhaps middle-aged at that time - you all used to notice him. He was fat. A liver disease somebody said; he'd use a stiff right-arm sweeping outwards to lever himself forward through the air; his thighs rolled around each other.
Every day he found himself walking the country lanes. If you leave the town, just a little way, you'll see them all, for all of them get away from you and walk a country route - the dwarfed, the burned, the unchosen and the merely awkward. If you wish to see them, that's all you need to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment