Where She Has Gone (2015)
“In the doorways of the coffee bars, middle-aged men in suit coats stood smoking and talking, feet planted solid and broad as if they’d come out to survey their dominions after a storm. All along the street these clusters were repeated at intervals like an endless proliferation of village squares, the tiny bars with their counters and stools, their dim, bluish light, the men outside. The bars were like factories the men spilled out of, were made by, like secret societies where they practised or ...learned a certain laugh or shrug, a certain movement of hands, the way smoke curled away from the end of a cigarette.
I caught a snippet of Italian outside one of them, my own dialect.
“I never cared for that sort of thing, back then. You only know afterwards.”
I walked back to my apartment. For a long time I sat in my darkened living room staring out the corner window onto College. I hadn’t eaten all day, but by now was well past the point of hunger: it was as if my body had ceased sending messages to my brain, was only this shell I carried with me, without desires or rights.MoreLess
I caught a snippet of Italian outside one of them, my own dialect.
“I never cared for that sort of thing, back then. You only know afterwards.”
I walked back to my apartment. For a long time I sat in my darkened living room staring out the corner window onto College. I hadn’t eaten all day, but by now was well past the point of hunger: it was as if my body had ceased sending messages to my brain, was only this shell I carried with me, without desires or rights.MoreLess
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