Buddha spent eight days walking across the city and watching the faces of the people. At the end of the eight days Buddha met a little girl on a sidewalk waiting for her school bus. They waited together until the yellow bulk of her bus settled on the grey and black tongue of the street in front of them.

A monk met Buddha waiting to cross the street. The monk was silent, watching the cars and faces of the people on the opposite sidewalk, though he had many questions for Buddha and was desperate to ask them. The crosswalk light changed and the people crossed. The monk followed behind Buddha with the weight of his desire to ask. Buddha past over the lip of the sidewalk and said, “It is a cold morning.”

Buddha told me that my heart was made of napalm. His skin was gold, like sun or bullet casings. I replied, “there is no heart, so it cannot be of anything.” He smiled and for a small moment I could not tell where he ended and the world began. Buddha asked me with his smiling face, “oh, how can you lie like this?” I was silent, and bowed my head.