Taken from "Here" (the first story in Trinidadian writer, Elizabeth Walcott-Hackshaw's Four Taxis Facing North): This morning, driving to the airport, driving over Sans Souci in the dark, I kept thinking about driving over the edge and wondering how I would react at exactly that moment when I knew I had finally done it, gone off the road, into the tops of the trees. I could only pray that I wouldn't suddenly panic, that I would be calm, not wake her and hope she would just sleep through it all. [Coming tomorrow: My analysis of "Here"]
