I HAD BEEN LIVING FOR SEVEN YEARS
in California. Inexplicably I was unable to write. One day--it was April 1, 1987--I loaded my typewriter and some clothes onto my motorcycle and drove into Mexico. Crossing the northern deserts, my old Honda had five flat tires, a sure sign, I thought, that I was a fool to be making this journey; or else--such is the ambiguity of signs--that I had been a fool to put it off for so long. I arrived finally in Manzanillo, a seaport below Puerto Vallarta. I moved into an abandoned house in a coconut grove next to the ocean. I wrote daily, unexpectedly, in a cafe on the plaza. In three months the first draft of The Ethiopian Exhibition was complete.

MEXICO HAS BEEN GOOD TO ME
in its own peculiar way. It is a country cruel and beautiful, passive, violent, imitative and original. In a life spent obsessively wandering around the world, I had never before encountered a place I disliked so intensely, or found so fertile. When Ethiopia was finished I roved for a couple years east and west, north and south. Everywhere I went I found pieces of a new novel, which I called Maya. There were bits of it waiting for me in the Yucatan, in San Andres Tuxtla and Santiago Tuxtla, in Tlacotalpan and Uruapan, in Lagos de Moreno and Morelia. One night, in Xalapa, laid low by a recurrence of malaria, I saw Maya unreel before my eyes like a flickering kinescope. I was in the Hotel Limon, a monstrosity of tile where sounds echoed from wall to wall: whispers became roars, the dripping fountain a hailstorm. My malarial dreams were a cacophony too: they reverberated within my own skull. After Maya I retreated to Patzcuaro, a 400-year-old town in the mountains of Michoacan. Everything ran downward, blood from the slaughterhouse, sewage from the cluttering shacks, into the lake below. It seemed the natural place for The Queen of Las Vegas, my third Mexican novel. It rose out of the miasma like the regal whore she was.

WHAT FOLLOWS ARE EXCERPTS
from the first part of Ethiopia. This section in particular seems suited for imagery, both animated and still. More pieces will be added over time, and alterations will be made as I discover new ways of using this computer to illustrate prose.

(Part One of The Ethiopian Exhibition was also published in the NYPress.)