And so a man stood up. He stood there in the heat of the jungle and looked around at the green leaves and the ants and the fallen coconuts. His sweat gathered beneath his armpits and his breath laboured heavy in the close humidity. It was so hot that he couldn’t think, and so he just looked at the path before him and sighed.
There was no explanation for this. He’d simply arrived on the ground out of nowhere, dressed in cotton trousers and an old white linen shirt. And now he stood on this humble spot and took in air steadily through his nostrils. He felt the cool grass beneath his feet, but the soles were painful as if he had been walking for many days on a rough path. He lifted his foot and turned it with his hands to take a look. It was covered in blood and blisters. Like a monkey he picked at it with his free hand for a minute before letting it drop and returning his gaze to the path ahead.
He had a sudden urge to run ahead, but he failed to act upon it. Instead he just stood there and spat at the ground. He wiped a hand over his chin and found it stubbled and greasy. He gripped the jaw and stroked it slowly and firmly as if to test the strength of his skin. Out there in the forest, miles from anywhere, no-one was watching, so he decided to pick his nose. There were small, dry bits stuck to the side, and he took great pleasure in picking them out and flicking them into the bushes.
The next thing he did was to stroke his neck, and then push his fingers up towards the back of his head, in order to massage the top of his spine. He pressed hard and rotated his head until he felt a satisfying click and then relaxed once more. He yawned in a theatrical manner, as if to impress the birds and the insects, and then scratched his left shoulder with the uncut nails of his right hand.
Standing there in the dappled sunlight, he felt hairy and primal like a monkey, so he stooped down to imitate one. “Ooh hooh hoo” he said with his lips pursed. He swung his arms down straight, and with his legs bent they almost touched the ground. He was disappointed that his knuckles didn’t touch the grass. He wanted to walk on all fours. He wanted to scamper to the nearest tree and climb it effortlessly, launching swiftly up into the branches. He’d swing from one tree to the next and stop only to pick fruit from where it grew. Maybe he’d stop and eat berries while sat on a branch and spit the pips at the path below.
Quite quickly, however, this simple thoughts came to nothing and evaporated into the humid air of the jungle. He felt his muscles twitching as a wave of subtle energy passed up his spine, and his monkey nature was just a half forgotten memory lost along the road of evolution. He had the urge to put his shoulders back and to stand up straight like his mother had taught him. He began to stiffen, his back straightening with purpose and his jaw beginning to jut out in arrogance. “This is no place for a man!” he said confidently, and set off down the path into the unknown.
