Gerald Fleming: Two Somethings
This He could have run marathons, triathlons, could have blundered through densest jungles barefoot, quick-macheted, and not been prepared for this. He could have caressed the skin of a hundred women or men, every texture, every shade, but now this. Did we ever expect this? He could have begun writing: one and one and two and two and three—begun at age four, and now at age eighty well into the…

















