from the book

“Chapter One: The Earth Moves He had just walked in from stocking the truck with the morning deliveries and heard the sound of a freight train coming fast toward him. The young man fell to the floor and held tight to the marble column that supported the front doors. From there Paco had a stark view of the great catastrophe as it rolled and revolved through the market. He watched the floor ripple. Small hex tiles, the white turned cream, with black rosettes were actually bobbing up and down. Pots of finest imported mustards exploded, decorating the aisle ahead with sunbursts of ocher and brilliant yellow. Paralyzed, the disaster suspended for seconds, he saw the event in slow motion. Glossy honey jars vaulted off the shelves crashing into deep ruby jams and blood red jellies finishing on the floor with the mustards. Bins of beans spilled out together, the kidneys, pintos and navies dancing along the tiles with large beige limas. Gripping transfixed, scented waves of cinnamon, cloves, chili, oregano, a multitude of herbs and spices collided smashing to the ground releasing their essence upon him. He noticed the vinegars that lay cracked open and still with limp stems of lavender or fennel, some with onions and garlic, all now pale and exposed, their liquid spreading and rolling around. The famous pine wood produce stand that presented the Santa Barbara farm’s blue ribbon selection of fruits and vegetables had given way and fallen onto Patrice, the manager’s wife. He could see her long grey hair and one arm down to fingers grasping under shelves with piles of grapefruit and oranges on the ground. More violent swaying then a panicky feeling of being cut loose, just savagely disconnected from the firmament took him over. Helpless he lay frozen with his mind snatched away for seconds. Then reconnection to life, the freight train sounds disappearing in the distance with an unearthly quietude settling with the dust overall.”