martin ivison >>
white male, blue eyes, brown hair
80 kg, 181cm
with one child
a scattered family >>
a former life in music >>
a fondness for alphabet soup >>
and continuing aspirations

20101015, Hilo, Hawaiil

"The woman stopped him again. Swearing, leaning into his grip to take off the other shoe. Deepak looked at the distance covered. Barely fifty meters from the school-house they had left. So far there was no one seen, no insurrection, no people at all. The field was all morning quiet, until the bell rang.
Deepak looked up at the bell-tower on the school-house. He caught a glimmer of the bell moving, the brass reflecting in the sun. The girl beside him, struggling to take off her sandal with one hand, asked him to let go of her arm so she could use both hands. A thought lodged in Deepak's head, and he was unable to hold on to it. He gripped her, but he gave her slack so she could bend down. Her fingers unhooked the strap of her sandal, and Deepak thought briefly how pretty her feet were. When she rose back up her body flexed like a bow and in one fluid motion she threw the dusty shoe in his face. He let go of her arm.
By the time he had wiped the dust from his eyes, she had covered a good ten, fifteen meters into the empty field. It was like watching someone strike out into the open ocean, at once absurd and impressive. The was a hint of eternity in this simple, paced motion that allowed Deepak for the briefest of moments to focus beyond the constraints of momentary thoughts, beyond the action around him that had his fellow wreckers yell or raise their rifles. That had the unfettered Chugger start on a run after her. In this way, the scattered beads in his mind all rolled into place to line up in a perfect string of perception. Of understanding:"
(from More Dogs Than Days)

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