But of course they did. All they had to do was get into one of those trucks of theirs and drive east.
Only the East didn't exist for them. They didn't know it was there.
They belonged to the land and the land they belonged to was grand
And empty and bleak and imprisoning.
Landscape as fate.
A landscape untouched by time.
The sideburns lengthened, the tunes on the juke-box altered, nothing else changed.
The elders like grey ghosts, their word still law. "I'll tell you one thing. We have a family plot; he's going into it."
Jack travelled in a wider circle than Ennis; he could even bring himself to cross into Mexico. But Ennis, poor Ennis, was shackled to the one place.
The tragedy of a terribly, terribly limited man.
A man who couldn't live for fear of dying.
I was weepy for hours afterwards.