Today I elbowed my way into a crowd of onlookers. We stood staring down into an enormous gulf, or gorge, I forget which. I asked the woman next to me what we were looking at. She bit into a potato as though to end its suffering. She looked at me and said a word, or maybe two with her mouth full of potato. I looked at the rest of the gathered crowd, all faces cut down toward the gulch, or gully, I’m not sure which. No one spoke. There was an air. I thought there was an air of something, of sadness. I thought, certainly, someone has fallen in. Certainly, we are dealing with a tragedy here. I looked up into the sky. Someone elbowed his way into the crowd a few feet from me. He looked into the pit. What happened, he said, looking in my direction. I shrugged my shoulders at him, gave him a baffled look, kicked a rock into the ravine, or chasm. I watched the rock get smaller and smaller until it disappeared. When I looked up, the onlookers were looking at me.