Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 93: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AGAIN T WAS ONLY WHEN HE SAW the spaceship that he felt the smallest bit disturbed. All that morning—or how long was a morning, here ?— he had wandered, had watched the friendly light of this sun as it played through leaves and fronds which were the merest fraction removed from others known long before. He had seen flowers which were almost the same as those which his mind attempted to pattern for him, had tasted good fruits from bushes and plants. And he did not wonder that not once on his journey had he been out of the sound of running water. Fear was not in him. | It hurt to try to think. He sat down, keeping his eye on the great metal bulk which towered above the trees, and then he bent his head away from the glare. He rubbed his hands down his thighs 92 by JOHN KIPPAX and clasped them about his knees, thinking of himself, but holding back on the certain knowledge of what he must do next. He thumbed his calves, ran fingers between his toes, and caressed the springy turf which gave so easily to the weight of his knotted buttocks. He rubbed his side, where it ached a little, and then he looked again at the distant ship. He knew that he was of it, but he did not know how he knew. It seemed that long ago, somewhere back in another life—or was it merely another world ?—he had been able to work out answers, but now, his mind seemed cushioned, and he took short views, like wanting to see what he looked like, down there in the water. He went down the slope with the springy turf lifting beneath his naked comicloooks.comn