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318 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
– No, that’s not the main thing, I don’t agree with you Mita, pardon me. She has to be interesting! and you mustn’t forget the eye shadow.
– No, but it’s more interesting as if she were hiding a past. Where do those women get the courage to lead that kind of life? The jewel thieves, or the spies. Or even the smugglers. But they have another kind of life. More interesting. Because that’s the main thing, that people see her pass by and say “what an interesting woman… who can she be…?”
And you have to pray even if it isn’t the end of the world, because in the morning Mom and Dad might be dead, they die sleeping. The end of the world begins with a storm, while everybody’s sleeping and you hear some faraway thunder. And there’s a flash of lightning but nobody sees it because all the windows are closed. Then rain begins to fall. And the thunder is a little louder, like a storm, but nothing else.
“I’m glad I’m breaking up with you, because I’m sick of your crazy talk… trying to court big girls and comparing yourself with Adhemar, and you have the nerve to criticize your cousin who’s so good to you,” and he tried to stop me but I went on “You think you’re a big shot and you’re just a little faggy sissy sticking to the girls all day long and what’s all this talk about Adhemar? are you in love with him or something? well get it into your head that you’ll never be like Adhemar, because all you are is a phony little fag.”







--a brown cross-stitch over beige linen, that's why your tablecloth turned out so well.
--this tablecloth alone gave me more trouble than the whole set of doilies, a full eight pairs...if they paid more for needlework, i could hire a sleep-in maid and spend more time on embroidery, once i get my customers, don't you think?
--embroidery doesn't seem tiring, but after a few hours your back begins to ache.
--but mita wants me to make her a bedspread for the baby's crib, with bright colors since the bedrooms get so little light. three rooms one after the other leading into a hallway with big windows, all covered with canvas curtains that your can pull open.
--if i have more time, i'd make myself a bedspread. you know what's really tiring? typewriting on a high desk like the one i have in the office.
there are three little boy dolls, and the queen of france, her hair is done in an upsweep and her skirt is as full as can be, the three little boy dolls in white stockings all the way up to their bloomers, the girl dolls in silk costumes and the boy dolls in silk costumes too, mommy, and the men in white dickey's same as you, tiny lacing, white wigs, they're porcelain and stand on a shelf, of the mother of the boy next door, and they're hard, you can't eat them, dressed the same as the silly face dolls, they are kind and look at the girl doll sitting in a hammock, painted on the cover of your box of spools, in the drawer next to the tablecloth and napkins, the box that had candy before.
iv choli's conversation with mita, 1941
--mita, you should be happy with this child of yours. he couldn't be sweeter.
--
--no, that's not true, believe me. i was sure he would have lost his looks by now, i figured his features would have become coarser, like a man's.
--
--i was afraid too! he could go on being so handsome...