Member-only story
Distance As Measure Of Time
And Other Obscure Titles by Henry Bishop
Once this was a hill covered with scrubby bushes. Now look at it. Perfectly fitted slabs of grey rock of different sizes but all aligned and tall. It’s a tall wall.
Henry used to sit on that hill and read. The wall has become something of a gallery but Henry doesn’t pay much attention to the commentary. Everyone has an opinion, he muses, on his way over to the park. Reading there isn’t as good because there are people there. The hill was ideal because even though there were peacocks wailing up above the hill and people down on the sidewalk, no one actually came onto the hill.
“Why do you stay in the city if you dislike people so, Henry?” This from Margie, his neighbor.
Margie is one of the three people that Henry actually speaks to on a fairly regular basis. Now he’s reminded why even that’s something to avoid. Margie’s used to him so that look he shoots her before leaving gives her a giggle.
The wall went up about five years ago. Yes, he resents having lost his hill, but he doesn’t necessarily blame the wall. It’s a handsome wall, very well constructed. There were many times when Henry would notice the ongoing erosion of the hill and worry about what would happen to that medieval-looking building up behind him. It had to weigh…
