Bear It’s not my track, I say, seeing the ball of the foot and the wide heel and the naily, untrimmed toes. And I say again, for emphasis, to no one but myself, since no one is with me. This is not my track, and this is an extremely large foot, I wonder how large a body must be to make such a track, I am beginning to make bad jokes. I have read probably a hundred narratives where someone saw just what I am seeing. Various things happened next. A fairly long list, I won’t go into it. But not one of them told what happened next—I mean, before whatever happens— how the distances light up, how the
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