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The Flying Man Extracts Page 1

Biarritz, France – 2012 – Showtime

He’s writing a letter he never intends to post, but which he knows will one day be found. It might be in his jacket pocket or in his suitcase, or maybe here just moments from now (why not?) on the vinyl surfaced bureau of the cheap hotel, once his pills finally stop working, once that whirling gang of his old-man maladies finally catch up with him, and drag him down, jackals tearing into their prey on the ground. After he’s found lying there, twitching and helpless, the letter will be discovered, carefully unfolded, and it will answer all their questions, that motley crew of the casually abandoned, the tearful and indifferent, the largely harmless and charmless. (He pities them, now, in the ambiguous way one would pity a slow, defective child that you know deserves affection more than pity, in the way that one would pity the brave and brittle smiles of the parents of that same child who must offer the affection, the protection, that the world does not.) His unfortunate tribe. His Family and Friends.

 

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