Those Who Feel Nothing (2014)
“A woman behind a desk at the far end of the shop looked up and smiled at him. Her hair was drawn back tightly to accentuate the perfect oval of her face. Incense drifted around her from burners at either edge of the desk.
Watts smiled back and looked around him. Buddha heads and torsos carved from stone or cast in brass. Big pieces of French colonial furniture: chests, cupboards and bedheads made from teak or some other hardwood. He’d seen similar modern versions in the Lombok shop, imported fr...om Thailand.
The woman let him browse but when he approached her desk she looked up and gave him the same neutral smile, one eyebrow slightly raised.
‘How old are these pieces?’ Watts said.
‘Their ages vary,’ she said, with the hint of an accent. ‘Did you have a particular piece in mind?’ Watts pointed behind her. ‘That Buddha there, for instance. It looks really old.’ The woman glanced behind her. ‘It’s not. Late nineteenth century. Burmese.’ She gestured back into the shop.MoreLess
Watts smiled back and looked around him. Buddha heads and torsos carved from stone or cast in brass. Big pieces of French colonial furniture: chests, cupboards and bedheads made from teak or some other hardwood. He’d seen similar modern versions in the Lombok shop, imported fr...om Thailand.
The woman let him browse but when he approached her desk she looked up and gave him the same neutral smile, one eyebrow slightly raised.
‘How old are these pieces?’ Watts said.
‘Their ages vary,’ she said, with the hint of an accent. ‘Did you have a particular piece in mind?’ Watts pointed behind her. ‘That Buddha there, for instance. It looks really old.’ The woman glanced behind her. ‘It’s not. Late nineteenth century. Burmese.’ She gestured back into the shop.MoreLess
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