Apr 10, 2012

the edge of innocence

It is a night of luxury.
(talk slow)

Alicia slices the bread in the kitchen, it's easier there. Then picks up a new wine bottle and brings it all along the straight path to the back of the garden, where the fire is burning high and without smoke, the pine logs very dry. Brushing against the sage awakes its pungent smell, she smiles in the darkness.
When she gets there, the child is almost crying over her toast, lost in the flames. It's a blond girl with trusting eyes and long limbs, last year she looked like Rembrandt's baby sister, but no more. Alicia gives her bread, pours the wine in the five outstretched glasses. 
So many stars, the cicadas -or are they crickets? she never knows. She sits down on the wooden bench, happy to let the others talk. The house isn't hers, nor the child. But the friendship. 

A colander makes the round, full of the first strawberries.  Conversation swims on the soft light. Lazy easy wisecracking touching on whatever passes.
Someone says oh god do you remember  the breakfast joke, the one with the butter ? No. So he tells the story, about a man who complains to his friend that he made a terrible blunder:
- I was trying to ask her if she'd like tofu, and I said Do you like to fuck?
Answers the friend:
- Oh don't worry. The other day I was going to ask my wife to pass me the butter, and what came out was : I'm so fed up with you, I can't even stand to look at you any more, you old cunt!".
Laughter rolls and dies away. In the silence the child asks, her voice clear and a bit hurt:
- I don't understand. Why is this funny?
A beat. Alicia slow as ever looks for words to explain.  But another joke is told, the chatter takes a new turn, and it's too late. The question never gets answered.


  1. As always, I don't have comments that are any use, but this blog feels very fine, both the stories, as far as I can read then, and the superb drawings.

  2. I have made a small start at beginning to explore the archives of this enchanted forest of a blog. I can't tell you how exited I am. My Portugese is, unfortunately, almost nonexistant (I did buy a course in Portugese last year, but it was very hard and I gave up quickly) and my French only a little better. But exited I am!

  3. An enchanted forest! Thanks! As for comments being useful or not, I don't know. It's like somebody waving from a passing boat, kind, very nice. So thanks again.

  4. And thank you, jw. Waving is perfectly fine. (However, when I comment, I would like to say something more than 'I Like'... I hope I can.)