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False Sun

False Sun Timea Balogh When we were little, our father helped draw plans for pathways up the side of one of the mountains that bordered our village, and then the other, so that those in good health could climb them in the winter to sun them- selves, gather the warmth of that sun, and bring it back for the others, for themselves. He helped try to carve the paths, too, but after several years, he and the other men in the village halted the projects. They could not make any substantial progress, for in the winter, the nightly snowfall would undo their many hours of daily work, and in the spring, as the ice walls melted, the rush of the waterfalls was too heavy for us to navigate the steep paths. There were many landslides, near-death experiences. The torrential summer river that split our village in two was salty with their sweat, and later, when the men gave up on the projects for good, the tears of those in our village. While we could see the sun perched above the snowy peaks during the few hours of winter daylight, it could not rise high enough over the two mountains between which http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X

Abstract

Timea Balogh When we were little, our father helped draw plans for pathways up the side of one of the mountains that bordered our village, and then the other, so that those in good health could climb them in the winter to sun them- selves, gather the warmth of that sun, and bring it back for the others, for themselves. He helped try to carve the paths, too, but after several years, he and the other men in the village halted the projects. They could not make any substantial progress, for in the winter, the nightly snowfall would undo their many hours of daily work, and in the spring, as the ice walls melted, the rush of the waterfalls was too heavy for us to navigate the steep paths. There were many landslides, near-death experiences. The torrential summer river that split our village in two was salty with their sweat, and later, when the men gave up on the projects for good, the tears of those in our village. While we could see the sun perched above the snowy peaks during the few hours of winter daylight, it could not rise high enough over the two mountains between which

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Dec 21, 2019

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