Autumn 1993 – The View From One Right Eye


At 4 am I expected the streets to be quiet and empty. Quiet they were. Empty they were not. Dogs sat outside their homes, watching me pass. They did not bark. They did not move. They seemed uninterested in me, only paying attention because I was moving and  a dog is compelled to notice a moving object. Clearly they were waiting for something – someone – else. I hoped that, whatever it was that had them up at this hour, it was unrelated to Morales’ problem and not something that I would need to address. It was a tiny hope and I did not expect it to last.