Monday, June 27, 2016



We are moving out. Everything must be cleared out of the house where we have lived for many years, all the knick-knacks, all the tchotchkes , all the objects we have collected—and have been collecting dust. The task is endless. Every cupboard must be emptied, every closet. Every shelf must be cleared, even those high up, near the ceiling, where the tiny ones are lined up, the ones I need a stepladder to reach. The house is huge, unfamiliar, the ceilings high. We wonder if it is time to call for help from an expert, someone who will know what these things are worth. Someone arrives, and starts to sort those of little value from those which might have some value. Those of little value we will sell for a nickel apiece. Those of greater value we will sell for more. But we are unsure whether the expert can be trusted. We want to be sure we are not cheated in the process…


I am at a motorcycle race track, mingling with the crowds. These are not regular races, they seem to be more like grudge matches between two rival groups of riders. There are taunts and challenges over the loudspeakers. After watching the first race from a distant corner of the stands, I move to a different location. It would seem that I am looking for someone between the races. At some point I cross the race track and earn a reproof from one of the young officials: you’re not allowed to cross the track. The next race is announced. There will be one challenger against three opponents; they will race to the death. As the race starts, I want to cross back over the track to find the person I am looking for, but this time I discover a bridge that makes the crossing easy. In the middle of the bridge I spot the person I am looking for. It is the wife of a good friend. I seem to have designs on her, or have perhaps already started a relationship. I spread my arms to give her a close embrace. Perhaps it was too close, perhaps I have presumed too much, for she walks away from me now, distracted, as though looking for someone else, I follow her, wondering if I have done something wrong….

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