Complete Denise Milani

when we were (the road / home)

He woke in the night in the cold, stood up and broke more wood for the fire. Among the shapes of the branches twinkling embers glow orange. Blew on it to revive, and poured out the wood and sat cross-legged, his back against the stone pier of the bridge. Heavy limestone blocks stacked without mortar. Above his head the structure of brown iron rust, rivets driven with a hammer, shingles and wooden planks. The sand on which he sat was warm to the touch but the fire was beyond the bitter cold of the night. He got up and dragged more wood under the bridge. He stood to listen. The baby was not moving. Sedettae beside him and stroked his hair and tangled. Gold chalice, good to house a god. Please do not tell me how it ends. When he turned back to look at the darkness beyond the bridge was snowing.

[from The Road by Cormac McCarthy ]

Someone called it a road movie in reverse. Home has the gift of simplicity. There is this family living in the countryside, where suddenly open highway. there is nothing else yet there is everything. I call it a film masterpiece.