“Germans and Spaniards and Portuguese and Italians, the tourists were the faithful, travelling for a conscience holiday to Cuba before the worker state went under. They had the light in their eyes, the way pilgrims were, he supposed, when they first came close to the Almighty. Gord didn’t have religion, and it was only what he supposed. And he didn’t have politics either, had never voted in a British election, but the light in their eyes was adoration. There was not much that he believed in, not... politics and not religion. Before the ‘ignominy’ he would have reckoned that he believed in himself, his own qualities and his own capabilities, and since the ‘ignominy’ he had believed in nothing – until three Ixil Indians from Guatemala had come to the hotel beside the sea loch. A way was forced through the crush for him by Eff and Vee and Zed. Rats up a drainpipe and going there fast. They pushed and heaved and used their knees and elbows, manoeuvred him to third place in the queue at the passport desk, and grinned at him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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