The following list contains excerpts from a journal kept during my recent travels to Brazil. The trip was inspired by the recordings of the Claude Levi-Strauss, referred to as the father of modern anthropology, in his book, Tristes Tropiques in the 1930’s. Indirectly, here is my response to his writings through my own experience roughly 80 years later:
1. The shark no longer held anything but pink, open flesh. A feast. A profit. Yet small corners of the incident still enjoyed ephemeral and independent life. She swam to kiss her own tomb, but instead stabbed it to death. The shark was dead.
3. Hallowed be broad daylight. The sun punched the clock and I was safe.
“I didn’t know nobody, just like you.”
10. Still higher in the sky, they were everywhere. Helicopters swaying like eggbeaters.
11. Let the ants eat it. Ants that like greens, sugar, meats. The really tiny ones.
12. I am tense as a drum; then he bit me. Full-mouthed and fervent.
13. Listening to the city from above. I am mystified by the combustion of noises– ringing roaring sounds from creatures that would wake the dead before daybreak.
5. The day was mid-career and I was all at sea in this city. Its outskirts rambled and laid spread-eagle with legs that went on for miles.