By way of defense, an anecdote drifts in amidst the starlings— scarcely any other sound— a man who lost his way here—not in the woods, among the trees, but in the description of a man he might also have been a father waking up to search for his children among the suitcases in the hallway a man pulling the forest shut behind him after burying the remnants of winter amidst bushes over which a flock of habits flies It is a game, yes—dead serious— I seek the man he was, without hurting either of us and then the game ends as a children’s game ends when the authorities say it is time to disperse when that same man gets into his car and one person remains.
