I knew how many cigarettes I smoked each day, and I knew how little I ran except when chasing a soccer ball now and then if a game came up, and I knew that there was little chance of catching it and […]
it angered me to know that a dog might outdo me, and so I resolved that it would not. We ran. It surged ahead. I followed along the narrows of central Lima, beneath her ragged and decaying balconies
past her boarded buildings, her cloistered doorways, her shadows. I wanted the mutt dead. I ran with cruelty in my chest, like a drug pushing me faster
and then my leg buckled and I sputtered to a stop. I was blocks away from the plaza, in the grassy median of a broad, silent avenue lined with anemic palm trees, dizzy, lungs gasping for air.
”lima, peru, july 28, 1979” by Daniel Alarcón , from War by Candlelight, Harper Perennial, 2006, pp.78-79
I know how many cigarettes I smoke each day, I know how little I run expect when chasing a soccer ball now and if a game comes up
and I know that there is a little chance of catching it and […] it angers me to know that a dog might outdo me, and so I resolve that it will not. We run. It surges ahead.
I follow along the narrows of central Lima, beneath her ragged and decaying balconies, past her boarded building, her cloistered doorways, her shadows.
I want the mutt dead. I run with cruelty in my chest, like a drug pushing me faster, and my leg buckles and I sputter to a stop. I am blocks away from the plaza
in the grassy median of a broad silent avenue line with anemic palm trees, dizzy, lungs gasping for air.
A lot of people are carrying a gorilla. The gorilla, who seems dead, has food in its mouth. It looks like they are moving it, with some kind of purpose.
That purpose could be anything between eating it and using its skin. They are carrying it using some sort of carrier, which is made out of bamboo.
The people would be considered Africans. This consideration is made out of my observations, out of their skin colour and clothes.