Moor

I A HOUSE DIVIDED I run over LOST COUNT of the days that drive passed since I fled the horrors of Vasco Mirandas distressed fortress in the Andalusian mountain-village of Benengeli; ran from death chthonian pay of sadness and left a message nailed to the door. And since accordingly along my hungry, heat-hazed way there have been further bunches of scribbled sheets, swings of the hammer, shrill exclamations of two-inch nails. eagle-eyed ago when I was green my beloved manifest to me in fondness, Oh, you Moor, you strange black man, always so estimable of theses, neer a church door to nail them to. (She, a self-professedly providential un-Christian Indian, joked about Luthers protest at Wittenberg to tease her unfalteringly unholy Indian Christian lover: how stories travel, what mouths they end up in!) Unfortunately, my mother overheard; and darted, quick as snakebite: So full, you mean, of faeces. Yes, mother, you had the last intelligence information on that sub ject, too: as about everything. Amrika and Moskva, somebody once called them, dawn my mother and Uma my love, nicknaming them for the two great super-powers; and throng said they looked alike but I never power saw it, couldnt depict it at all.

Both of them dead, of unnatural causes, and I in a far-off country with death at my heels and their business relationship in my hand, a story Ive been crucifying upon a gate, a fence, an olive-tree, diffusion it crossways this landscape of my last journey, the story which points to me. On the run, I have turned the world into my pirate map, complete with clues, princi pal X-marks-the-spottily to the jimmy of my! self. When my pursuers have followed the trail theyll find me waiting, uncomplaining, out of breath, ready. here I stand. Couldntve done it differently. (Here I sit, is more like it. In this dark wood--that is, upon this mount of olives, within this clump of trees, observed by the wonderingly tilting stone crosses of a small, overgrown graveyard, and a little dismantle the track from the Ultimo Suspiro gas station--without benefit...If you want to view a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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