y sigue la vida

This is Breugel's Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. Since Leon Kass pointed it out to me in Being Human, I think of it often. Life is like that!

Last night this story by Augusto Monterroso reminded me all over again:

"La Vaca"

Cuando iba el otro día en el tren me erguí de pronto feliz sobre mis dos patas y empecé a manotear de alegría y a invitar a todos a ver el paisaje y a contemplar el crepúsculo que estaba de lo más bien. Las mujeres y los niños y unos señores que detuvieron su conversación me miraban sorprendidos y se reían de mí pero cuando me senté otra vez silencioso no podían imaginar que yo acababa de ver alejarse lentamente a la orilla del camino una vaca muerta muertita sin quien la enterrara ni quien le editara sus obras completas ni quien le dijera un sentido y lloroso discurso por lo buena que había sido y por todos los chorritos de humeante leche con que contribuyó a que la vida en general y el tren en particular siguieran su marcha.

roughly translated as follows:

"The Cow"

As I went the other day on the train I stood up suddenly, happily, on my two feet [paws?] and started to wave my hands in happiness and to invite everyone to look at the view and to contemplate the sunset, which was quite good. The women and children a few men stopped their conversation and looked at me, surprised, and laughed at me, but when I sat down again, silent, they could not imagine that I had just seen disappearing slowly on the edge of the path a dead, very dead, cow without anyone to bury her, no one to edit her complete works, and no one to give a heartfelt and tearful speech about how good she had been or, most of all, for the streams of warm milk with which she contributed to the ability of life in general and of the train in particular to continue their forward march.