Kurt had always found safety in the deep woods of the secluded valley miles outside town. He ventured into the town as little as possible because of the unceasing torment by the children who didn’t know any better, and some mean grown-ups who didn’t know any better either. Kurt was not a handsome man. Taken individually, all his features were average. Put together, they were all the wrong parts – nothing went very well with his other features. His face bore the quizzical expression of a person who was always mystified about things. His legs were too short and his arms were too long. He slumped when he walked. He was not gifted with easy words.

Anna had sought the refuge and isolation of the deep woods to concentrate on the meaning of it all. She had brought her pyramid shaped aluminum frame tent with the pocket for holding crystals at the apex. She liked to sit on her imitation sheepskin directly under the center and focus all her energies on intercepting the cosmic vibration.

Anna was knocked flat by the vibration.

The sound and motion had come on slowly, like a long ocean roller picking up power as it lifts up the beach incline and then in an explosion of surf washes out across the sand. The earth had lifted up and then fallen away beneath her. She was startled, dazed and the wind had been knocked out of her.

Anna opened the tent and looked out squarely into the eyes of Kurt.

Kurt had seen the tent, he’d seen tents before, but never anything like this special tent. He didn’t approach the tent, he had learned it was always better to stay apart, but when he lost his footing in the rumble, when the earth moved, when the earth had moved out from under him, he didn’t know what else to do, and like people everywhere after disaster, came nearer to see if there was someone else who just went through the same thing.

As soon as he rounded the corner, the zipper unzipped and a face popped out.

“Unhh”, was Kurt’s immediate response. It was his immediate response for just about everything.

“Unhh”, was Anna’s. She was usually much more articulate, speaking in complete sentences, precisely worded. Philosophy people do that, carefully search for words that have great importance and meaning, carefully craft them into sentences that form great imagery, state a positive concrete irrefutable fact with absolute certainty but with a subtlety of nuance that the instant you think you understand, the thought trickles from your brain like sand slipping down the sides of the hourglass.

Anna was an American teaching in France. Kurt was from the Czech Republic.

“Qui sont vous?  Who are you?” Anna asked.

“Hunhh?” asked Kurt.

“Vous parlez anglais, les français? Do you speak English?” she hoped.

“Hunhh?” answered Kurt.

Anna didn’t know quite what to do. She was immediately relieved, and immediately alarmed. Not only had something monumental just happened, she understood that whatever it had been, the change was immediate and permanent, and probably tragic. And now she looked into this face and tried to see into the depths of Kurt’s soul through his eyes. She saw nothing that she could get a clue from – nothing hidden, nothing covered up, nothing disguised. She started to panic, but found Kurt’s apparent lack of alarm calming.

Kurt looked at Anna. She was talking, but Kurt didn’t understand anything she was saying. This wasn’t unusual for Kurt. He mostly looked at face expressions anyway. He could tell right away if the talking face was friendly or not, whether it was a threat, or a challenge, or pity. Pity was the worst. It made him feel bad. He could deal with the rest, but he didn’t like to feel pity.

“Hunhh?” answered Kurt once again. 

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