Chapter 3 #3
Halimi opened his eyes instantly. He gave me a big smile. I slapped his face playfully, and he pulled me toward him and said, “What can I say, we’re getting old.” His smile deepened. He closed his eyes and murmured, “I need to nap a little. When I shut my eyes, I’m having these crazy visuals.”
I giggled and kissed him on the forehead. “Fine, I don’t know what kind of mushrooms Dan sold you, but it’s having the opposite effect on me. I’ve got to walk some more. Rest up for a few minutes, and I’ll wander around.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled. I stood up, taking the backpack with me.
The landscape sprung up in front of my eyes.
I understood intuitively how the pink star thistle supported the sandstone, consoling it for the way humans had devoured it in chunks for thousands of years and for the damage that weather and time had inflicted upon it.
I got down on my knees and kissed a few flowers.
“Rozhevsky, don’t go crazy on me,” Halimi said behind me. I turned to look at him, lying under the tree, one eye open.
“I’m fine,” I shot back. I needed a moment to remember where we were in time.
My lips felt pink and fleshy. I remembered I had a little girl named Lily, who was probably being offered a lavish evening meal at the hotel but was only pecking at food that came in plastic containers, like yogurt, or food that had a distinct shape and color, like the yolk of a boiled egg or a piece of dry bread. It all made me laugh.
My legs carried me abnormally fast, and the music became clearer. There was none of the usual laughing and chattering of picnickers out in nature. The sounds were sharper, like a vibrating echo of the plucking of strings passing through me.
Two voices cantillated, starting and stopping, as if in a rehearsal. Two male voices, half-declaiming, half-singing.
Something in the landscape altered, and my heart pounded in my chest. With every step, the silence thickened, enveloping the entire vicinity.
The chirping of birds intensified, as if someone had switched on a gigantic loudspeaker with a tropical jungle soundtrack with whistling, chirping, squeaking, and snorting of insects and birds at full volume, accompanied by other sounds I couldn’t identify.
The vegetation solidified. The air turned steadily translucent.
Suddenly, I realized I’d left my hat with Halimi; I sensed my consciousness leaking out, engulfing my head in vapors.
Nothing like this had ever happened to me, I imagined telling my sister.
I summoned comforting scenes of myself sitting on the balcony with my laptop, cigarettes, and coffee, while Lily watched a movie in the living room.
But the air had a completely different smell to it, as if a giant had trampled on all the surrounding bushes, releasing their fragrance. I’m going to faint, I thought.
The soothing scent of hash rose up from one of the nearby trees.
Perhaps it really was a bunch of people having a picnic.
I decided to go over to them and ask for a hit.
As I walked toward the smell, I saw two men.
They appeared to be semitransparent, and although I blinked and jerked my head from side to side a few times, they continued to flicker, shaded by a carob tree.
Two hipsters from someplace abroad, I thought.
One of them was a pot-bellied dude with a handsome face and lush brown hair, wearing a suit of …
velvet? A blue cloak or robe over yellow sleeves and a silvery belt that held the whole getup together.
He clutched a weird, misshapen guitar to his body and wore a puffy blue beret on his head, decorated with gold ribbon.
There was another guy with him, lounging under the tree, wearing lighter clothes—a yellow silk shirt with a kind of brown hoodie, loose-fitting harem pants in red, and a leather belt from which hung small leather pouches.
Was that a dagger? His dark hair was gathered in a half-ponytail.
He inhaled something from a small receptacle and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Two large dogs stretched out by his side.
I fanned myself with the palm branch again. I was very close to them now, but they still hadn’t noticed me. The dogs roused themselves, agitated, and began barking at me. I wasn’t afraid; they were also semitransparent, like holograms. Mushroom logic.
A spring gurgled nearby. I’d never noticed it before on our previous hikes—I wasn’t even aware there were springs around Atlit.
I made a beeline for the cool water and drank from it, but it was as if nothing passed my throat.
I submerged my head in the water but felt no sensation of dampness or cold.
These mushrooms are too much, I managed to think before the coin on its chain detached itself from my sweaty chest and fell into the spring.
And suddenly, there was an explosion in my head.
I was swept into the water as if it were a whirlpool—sucked in, like a crumb going down a drain.
Turns out that breathing underwater is possible. I rose up on a tidal wave and was thrown onto dry land.