Ordinary, except for its size and its dynamism. Mountains and plateaus and canyons and river deltas, the usual. Let’s try the ending again, writ continentally. What she thinks then, and thereafter, is: But he was free.Īnd it is her bitter, weary self that answers this almost-question every time her bewildered, shocked self manages to produce it: The world has already ended within her, and neither ending is for the first time. She will cover Uche’s broken little body with a blanket-except his face, because he is afraid of the dark-and she will sit beside it numb, and she will pay no attention to the world that is ending outside. There is a thing she will think over and over in the days to come, as she imagines how her son died and tries to make sense of something so innately senseless. LET’S START WITH THE END of the world, why don’t we? Get it over with and move on to more interesting things.įirst, a personal ending.
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