A Branch From The Lightning Tree

A Branch From The Lightning Tree

The stories say that if we take only the Road of the Village—the ordained track—we risk perpetuating an infantile grandiosity, firmly anchored to the ego but lacking relationship to the soul, the very relationship the Road of the Forest offers. This is a dangerous...
The Machine Stops

The Machine Stops

They were not fighting now. Only the whispers remained, and the little whimpering groans. They were dying by hundreds out in the dark. She burst into tears. Tears answered her. They wept for humanity, those two, not for themselves. They could not bear that this should...
Journey To The End Of The Night

Journey To The End Of The Night

The sky in Rancy is the same as in Detroit, a smoky soup that bathes the plain all the way to Levallois. Cast-off buildings bogged down in black muck. From a distance the chimneys, big ones and little ones, look like the fat stakes that rise out of the muck by the...
Journey To The End Of The Night

Journey To The End Of The Night

Here’s how it started. I’d never said a word. Not one word. It was Arthur Ganate that made me speak up. Arthur was a friend from med school. So we meet on the Place Clichy. It was after breakfast. He wants to talk to me. I listen. “Not out...
Pedro Paramo

Pedro Paramo

Up and downhill we went, but always descending. We had left the hot wind behind and were sinking into pure, airless heat. The stillness seemed to be waiting for something. “It’s hot here,” I said. “You might say. But this is nothing,” my companion replied. “Try to...