large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb_185
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
English
506
But ever he sucked and chewed on the crushed bones of the caribou calf, the least remnants of which he had gathered up and carried with him. BUT EVER HE SUCKED AND CHEWED ON THE CRUSHED BONES OF THE CARIBOO CALF THE LEAST REMAINS OF WHICH HE HAD GATHERED UP AND CARRIED WITH HIM
 the moss, a bone in his mouth, sucking at the shreds of life that still dyed it faintly pink. The sweet meaty taste, thin and elusive almost as a memory, maddened him. He closed his jaws on the bones and crunched. Sometimes it was the bone that broke, sometimes his teeth. Then he crushed the bones between rocks, pounded them to a pulp, and swallowed them. He pounded his fingers, too, in his haste, and yet found a moment in which to feel surprise at the fact that his fingers did not hurt much when caught under the descending rock. Came frightful days of snow and rain. He did not know when he made camp, when he broke camp. He travelled in the night as much as in the day. He rested wherever he fell, crawled on whenever the dying life in him flickered up and burned less dimly. He, as a man, no longer strove. It was the life in him, unwilling to die, that drove him on. He did not suffer. His nerves had become blunted, numb, while his mind was filled with weird visions and delicious dreams.  MORALISE LONG HE WAS SQUATTING IN THE MOSS A BONE IN HIS MOUTH SUCKING AT THE SHREDS OF LIFE THAT STILL DYED IT FAINTLY PINK THE SWEET MEATY TASTE THIN AND ELUSIVE ALMOST AS A MEMORY MADDENED HIM HE CLOSED HIS JAWS ON THE BONES AND CRUNCHED SOMETIMES IT WAS THE BONE THAT BROKE SOMETIMES HIS TEETH THEN HE CRUSHED THE BONES BETWEEN ROCKS POUNDED THEM TO A PULP AND SWALLOWED THEM HE POUNDED HIS FINGERS TOO IN HIS HASTE AND YET FOUND A MOMENT IN WHICH TO FEEL SURPRISED AT THE FACT THAT HIS FINGERS DID NOT HURT MUCH WHEN CAUGHT UNDER THE DESCENDING ROCK CAME FRIGHTFUL DAYS OF SNOW AND RAIN HE DID NOT KNOW WHEN HE MADE CAMP WHEN HE BROKE CAMP HE TRAVELLED IN THE NIGHT AS MUCH AS IN THE DAY RESTED WHEREVER HE FELL CRAWLED ON WHENEVER THE DYING LIFE AT HIM FLICKERED UP AND BURNED LESS DIMLY HE AS A MAN NO LONGER STROVE IT WAS THE LIFE IN HIM UNWILLING TO DIE THAT DROVE HIM ON HE DID NOT SUFFER HIS NERVES HAD BECOME BLUNTED NUMB WHILE HIS MIND WAS FILLED WITH WEIRD VISIONS AND DELICIOUS DREAMS
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