Ficly

There Are Many Roads

In an empty field near Petersburg, a farmer chewing wheatgrass haggles with a crone. A driveway, rubbled with gravel stretches to nowhere.

A sand swept South African road snakes to a sunset filled with dust devils, Ntembo clicking quietly to an arachnoid old man with a shock of frost white hair.

Kinapak, a starving Inuit on the verge of collapse has a conversation with a raven regarding the ownership of a sheen of ice upon a frozen delta.

Ana, daughter of a barge master, is on her father’s boat, drifting along a tributary of the Great Amazon. A shaman leaking dreams from his voice calls to her from a vine choked embankment.

At the edge of a rice paddy, a mute Japanese girl who has lost her village stares wordlessly at the man named Susanoo.

In Mexico City, Pedro, 9-year old thief extraordinaire, steals a battered moped, and after winding through his labyrinthe neighborhood, halts at an empty driveway as a coyote howls.

All over the world, empty stretches of land are bartered for souls.

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