Keys of Babylon
Keys of Babylon
“I loved the colours of its fruit, their turquoise enamels shining through the fall. Those heartbreaking falls. The berries were like the Navajo jewellery I saw a man selling in the street, where West End joined Eleventh. The earrings and bracelets were pinned to a blanket.
Long ways from Flagstaff, he said to me.
I looked around. Are we? I asked.
I was at Iwo Jima, he said. My brother too. Left him there. I used to help him with his English.
The man’s face was dark. Skin like ea...rth.
All he cared about was horses, the Navajo man said.
So why do I remember that? Why do I remember anything?
And now they tell me the porcelainberry is banned in New York. It’s apparently a pest. They root it out, use poison spray. Ah well, I think. Ah well.
Our housekeeper would tell us that Mr Rachmaninov used to stay at 502, West End Avenue.MoreLess
Long ways from Flagstaff, he said to me.
I looked around. Are we? I asked.
I was at Iwo Jima, he said. My brother too. Left him there. I used to help him with his English.
The man’s face was dark. Skin like ea...rth.
All he cared about was horses, the Navajo man said.
So why do I remember that? Why do I remember anything?
And now they tell me the porcelainberry is banned in New York. It’s apparently a pest. They root it out, use poison spray. Ah well, I think. Ah well.
Our housekeeper would tell us that Mr Rachmaninov used to stay at 502, West End Avenue.MoreLess
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