Anthony Schneider’s work has been published in McSweeney’s, The Believer, Boldtype, Details, and Mid-American Review, among others. He lives in New York City.
It is not a beautiful day in Mexico City unless you can see Popocatépetl. In this place, beauty is determined solely by whether or not the volcano breaches the nebulous smog like a visitation, by whether the eye can ascend its snow-covered face. When what was sensed but veiled yesterday is suddenly revealed today, it is, in the smallest way, a faith realized.
We were picnicking on the plains when she emerged from the rushes. She wore an apricot smock. Her face was smeared with soot. She said her name was Stina Groth. A cloud of bats burst from the chimney of a crumbling cottage behind her. We asked her where home was. She drew a circle in the silt with a twig.