Hills Like White Elephants

I poured down another drink and realized how the likelihood of he and I travelling the wilderness, yet again, became more apparent. One must not forget the sincerity in which he urged me to let it go, nor must one forget how we had had experiences that most people will never have … and how I have felt free in his presence till this very day. Our travels would continue. It was only a question of “letting in the air”, he said.

I cast a gaze upon the wildlife and saw the floating river, living and dead trees that had not made it through the winter, and hills on the dry side that looked like white elephants. Life on the outside seemed to accumulate, prosper and die simultaneously; what a peculiar contrast this was. I tossed my head back toward him and saw his steady look. It revealed an inexhaustible amount of picaresque desire; he would not stop looking at our bags.