HEART
She is lame because one of her legs is shorter than the other. It is noticeably so. She hobbles around. She has no money for food. She begs for food. Someone gives her a head of lettuce, but it has bugs in it. It takes a long time to rinse the bugs out of the lettuce. She eats the lettuce. She feels grateful.
They make a play about her life, though when it is finally performed she is dead. She died because one of her feet got infected. Every night, gingerly, she had tried to clean it. An actress sits in the middle of the stage. Her foot is huge. Her dress is all torn up and there are smudges on her face. A faint smile too.
His parents gave him everything they had, and then he gave most of it to an orphanage. When he arrived at the orphanage, the children beat pots and pans. The rest of his money he burned up in a desert wash. He wanted to be a tramp. He wanted to never know where he was. Everything else felt wrong.
She decided to go out walking, even though it would take her a long time. A buggy passed. When it passed, she watched the muscles moving in the horses’ legs. She listened to the clopping sounds of their feet on the ground. She listened to her own clopping sounds as she walked. She looked down at her muddy shoes. This is who I am, she thought. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing or what my feet sound like. What matters is this dusty road, and me on it. I’m hungry, but I’m sure that by the end of the day I’ll find food.
I don’t want this money anymore. I want to see if I can feed myself from what I find on the ground. I want to eat plants and wild mushrooms, but I’ll have to learn about mushrooms to make sure I don’t eat poison. I’ll have to figure out which plants are safe. With the little money I have left I’ll buy a book. From now on this book will help me find food.
In a play I am a poor woman. I have smudges on my face. My foot is huge. I walk home, wiping makeup off my face. I study everything around me. I don’t take off the foot, for it is the meaning of my life. I fall down, and then I stay down, laughing hysterically. I don’t want this to end.
If I do a thing I don’t want to do, will I have enough money to pay for a room? Will I be a different person, a person who does something like this? Will my insides change? When you look at me what will you see? And what will I see when I look at you?
What will you do with your life, with your money? Where will you go? There is almost nothing to stop you now. If you want this, you should live it.
She walks through the dark city and there are lights everywhere. She is almost blinded by them. Is this what it means to absorb and be absorbed by the night? If I am myself, am I also a dog who is dying? Am I a person being shot in the head? Am I making love to my own shadow? What is this place?
This is the place where your life unfolds. You push something back so the other thing can come forward. This thing is anything, or it is nothing, and you see it be nothing.
I am the reflection of someone who is dying. When I am looked at, it’s not me that is seen. I am a giant mirror. You are too. See that woman lying down in the road? When you are in front of her, she is reflected in your eyes.
To become a giant mirror, to stand in the middle of the wind knowing that’s all you are.
The lame one hobbles to her destiny.
Time opens up and you don’t know what you’re seeing. Or how anyone feels.
I want someone to love me. I want someone to take care of my feet. I want someone to wash my feet in rosewater and wrap them in warm towels. I work hard and every part of me is stiff. I want everyone to remember that I had feet and they carried me everywhere. I want everyone to remember that when I was with the rich, I kissed their hands and laughed hysterically.
He is the only one in his family who has seen this place and its creatures. From the light of his lantern he crosses the land that rises in front of him. In a small town someone gives
Learning to Kill: Stories