Bread Alone

Hello?

91 Hello? After forty days of fasting in the desert you stumble out of the parking lot into the wilderness— rows and rows of identical cream townhomes and condos crowded so close they look as though squeezed from a tube. It’s a place where the word becomes flesh-colored stucco tends to produce its own echo. An invisible map called How to live has been built into each interior wall. You’ve been sleeping on the floors of caves without reference point for so long you think it might help to follow some simple instructions— This is a balcony. Don’t fall. ...