Roald Amundsen was seeing strange things in the middle of Alaska. A portrait of himself inside a school house. The Inuit men who accompanied him were seasoned, but they had never seen a man quite this hysterical. Amundsen’s glasses fell off of his face; the shake of his madness had left it bare. Suddenly the young Roald disappeared and before the older, non -photocopied and wrinkled Roald was seeing a postman. There were bags and bags of letters around him, none of which were addressed to anywhere in Alaska, or even addressed at all.
I once buried a horse in my backyard.
The hole was exactly how I had imagined it when I was child. Two fixed eyes, an unintelligible soul. I kept it all, then walked to through the presidio. Off to the hospital, for a nappy nap. |
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