It Lasts Forever and Then It's Over

by Anne de Marcken

“But your name isn’t Carlos,” I say. “Carlos is the name I have given my name,” he says. “You seem like a Carlos,” I say.

It is clear there is no simple beginning or simple ending. Every live thing is the history and future of all dead things. Every dead thing is the future of all live things.

We move through the bushes picking as we go, pausing when one of us comes to a good bush. We have to reach deep in and bend down the highest branches to get the berries. Sometimes they slip loose from our fingers and drop to the ground. It feels like a waste. It feels like a tithe. It feels like how this place will be without us.