Page 73 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

transmit it to the others. Singing was the only way he could communicate with
them. From the beginning, he had been strict and cautious, never talking with
anyone. He was stately, admired by the younger ones. His branch was his alone.

From the time he began leading the chorus, everyone had loved him, but none
dared approach him, much less discuss anything with him.
From that branch, he could see in all directions. He had been aware of the
spider for a long time, and this discovery certainly didn’t make him happy. In the
corner of the bicycle shed, the spider had spun a large web between the eaves
and an old wall. On the other side of the wall was a storage room heaped with
blurry indeterminate gray things. Most of the time, the old spider hid behind the
storage room’s wooden window frame. When his quarry was caught in the web,
he would pounce like lightning and do away with the victim in fewer than thirty
seconds. Insect remains were scattered under the gloomy gray web. Inside the
victim were flies, ladybugs, grasshoppers, and other insects. Occasionally, there
were cicadas, too. The old bachelor had already seen one of his fellows
murdered. He would remember that as long as he lived. He was depressed for

two days. He even flew to the willow tree next to the shed and looked carefully
at the remains on the ground. While he was doing that, he thudded to the ground.
Then he stood up and slowly circled the pile of things. It was like mourning, and
it was like a search. When he flew away, the air he fanned like a small
whirlybird echoed heavily. The spider behind the wooden window frame
inclined its head, thinking about this mystery, and reached no conclusion.
The old toad finally died at the hands of the kid with the slingshot. It was
raining a little that day. Beneath its large stone, the toad poured out its memories
of love. This disturbed the entire apartment complex for most of the night. At
sunrise, the toad was still filled with so much ardor that it actually jumped to the
foot of the tree. Three pellets in a row hit and killed it. The youngster cheered
and took away its carcass. The cicadas could not comprehend why, though they
had heard of people eating toads. Even so, the old bachelor didn’t think the
toad’s fate was a sad one. Someone who had been so passionate all night long
must have experienced genuine blessings. The cicada’s song became clearer and
lighter. The other cicadas were a little surprised, and then they cheered up. After

the rain, the chorus was irresistible.
The spider’s huge web caught two more cicadas, inexperienced young
explorers. The old bachelor watched the spider deal with them like lightning. But
the victims couldn’t have suffered too much, since the spider’s poison was very
strong.
The old bachelor made strange, broken sounds in the direction of his fellow
cicadas. But he remained aloof. His fellows could understand only his singing,
so no one responded. A young female cicada fell into the web; the old bachelor