The way I used to do was to collect myself with an effort, look around for my bearings, pick out a landmark a little distance off, and forget everything but it.

Then I'd plod along, knowing nothing but the sand and shale and slope under my feet, until I'd reached that landmark.

Then I'd clear my mind and pick out another.
But I couldn't shut out the figure of Schwartz that way.

He used to walk along just ahead of my shoulder.

His face was all twisted up, but I remember thinking at the time it looked more as if he was worried in his mind than like bodily suffering.