When You Write On Your Own, You

Slowly, Painstakingly, Like Ants, Men Would Make Their Paths And Civilization And Their Wars Once Again, Only To Have It Wash Away Again.

Could Fulfillment Ever Be Felt As Deeply As Loss?

All Day, The Colors Had Been Those Of Dusk, Mist Moving Like A Water Creature Across The Great Flanks Of Mountains Possessed Of Ocean Shadows And Depths.

A Man Wasn't Equal To An Animal, Not One Particle Of Him. Human Life Was Stinking Corrupt, And Meanwhile There Were Beautiful Creatures Who Lived With Delicacy On The Earth Without Doing Anyone Harm. "we Should Be Dying." The Judge Almost Wept.

Saeed Quickly Found Employment At A Banana Republic, Where He Would Sell To Urban Sophisticates The Black Turtleneck Of The Season, In A Shop Whose Name Was Synonymous With Colonial Exploitation And The Rapacious Ruin Of The Third World.