The Tiger Came to the Mountains

Iron and ice are difficult to embrace.

What is godhood against the need of a child to save her brother? Nothing, I tell you.

I could have sworn, for one brief instant, that tiger was no great cat but a mighty god of death crouching above me.

Although in those days, war came for you whether you wanted it or not.

It’s my lot to survive, it’s what it is, and it’s a pity to live so much and remain with so little.

The world was supposed to be new, but everything felt scorched and worn.

I have never seen anything as beautiful or as frightful as the eyes of that tiger. I could have sworn the lightning of the night had sneaked into its pupils and the cold of the rain tipped its claws, which felt like ice as they dug into my chest. I could have sworn, for one brief instant, that tiger was no great cat but a mighty god of death crouching above me.

To this day I carry that scratch the tiger gifted me upon the chest, a long, puckered slash that aches when it rains. The scar feels like ice on those days, which is why I tell you this story is true, and I tell it because my brother would have liked to have seen it on paper, since he liked his books very much. The story of the summer when the tiger came to the mountains and we were young.

My brother’s voice was the voice of the budding flowers and the early rains.

slingshot. I know some softhearted people might think it is cruel to kill a squirrel, but it’s crueler still to watch your siblings growing up stunted and skinny. A squirrel’s tiny bones may be hard to pick when you are having soup, but hunger is harder.

Bullets don't always end up where they ought to.

The war had made the world bitter and difficult; it had taken family members and neighbours away. and threatened to snatch more people each day

We did not know whether the world would ever return to normal. I think she feared the world had already ended, and I could see her growing harder everyday.

Although, if you listen to some of the yerberos back in the mountains, if there are still any, they might say that it’s because I killed the tiger and kept its strength.

Carnivores are not meant to serve as dinner, and yet we did dine on tiger flesh in 1917.

I know some softhearted people might think it is cruel to kill a squirrel, but it’s crueler still to watch your siblings growing up stunted and skinny.

He’d learned this from his father and his father before him, the way we learned everything on the farm: knowledge of the land was spoken and not printed.

And some men end up on coins and bills after a war, but that doesn’t make them saints.

It's my lot to survive, it's what it is, and it's a pity to live so much and remain with so little.

What I loved about my brother, aside from his gentle disposition, was his ability to dream and infect me with his dreams.

some men end up on coins and bills after a war, but that doesn't make them saints.