the hours had ceased. As a drowning person sees nothing but the waters, so Kate saw nothing but the face of the timeless waters.
So, of course, she clutched at her straw. She couldn’t bear it. She ordered an old, ricketty Ford car, to take her bumping out to Jamiltepec, over the ruinous roads in the afternoon.
The country had gone strange and void, as it does when these “rebellions” start. As if the life-spirit were sucked away, and only some empty, anti-life void, remained in the wicked hollow countryside. Though it was not far to Jamiltepec, once outside the village, the chauffeur and his little attendant lad began to get frightened, and to go frog-like with fear.
There is something truly mysterious about the Mexican quality of fear. As if man and woman collapsed and lay