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Shack | Oct 07 2001

I remember a time I was hitchhiking and found myself in the countryside in the middle of the night searching for a place to sleep. I came upon a shack, a small shack on a hillside, and took shelter there, lying on the floor of this shack, which was no bigger than a shed, an empty shed with no windows.

The floor of the shack was slanted, the slant following the slant of the hill, so that the only workable position was “feet first,” with my head in the middle of the shack and my feet pressed against the downhill wall. I tried using my jacket as a pillow but soon felt too cold to sleep, so I put on my jacket again and tried to sleep that way, without a pillow. This failed as well – my neck hurt without support – so I returned to using the jacket as a pillow and slept perhaps a few minutes before waking from the cold.

Thereafter I wore the jacket and did not sleep.

*

It strikes me now that I had nothing with me, no bag or such, to use as a pillow. Why is that?

Also, I don’t remember where this was or where I was going. I’d been dropped off at a truck stop and had gone to find a place to sleep.

Also, I remember the moment I first saw the shack from the road – a dark shape in the darkness to my right, silhouetted against a starless sky. I do not trust this memory.