#200 We Drink the Wine in France- Alice Walker
A holocaust survivor is teaching high school French in the
American South. He hides his past and
runs from his memories. He finds beauty anywhere he can, in his students .
Although not inappropriate, the thoughts of a beautiful young girl in his class
haunt him.
“He really must stop thinking of her. Must remember he is
old. That death has had its hands on him. That his odor is of ashes while hers
is of earth and sun.”
That odor of death lingers in his mind so much that he
shirks away from students when he thinks it will mingle with their alive. More
vibrant auras, as if his will sully their innocence.
He spent 7 years in frozen hell, while his family died in
the camps, he survived and has been a “monster” for doing so, an oddity, a
freakish show piece. He runs from that kind of attention, and runs to warmth.
“The surrounding beauty has crept up on him gradually since
his arrival three years ago. He can no longer ignore it and it hurts him,
terribly. In Mexico he will find an even slower-infecting beauty. When it
becomes painful he will begin to explore countries even further south. He has
been chased across the world by the realization of beauty. He folds the letter,
looks with horror at the narrow walls and low ceiling of the post office,
rushes out into the bright sunshine.”
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