In winter all I could think was how cold I was, but it is in spring, Abram reminds us, that the villagers emerge from their frozen stupor and remember that they are hungry. Or, alternatively, they briefly bake in front of the bread-toasting station and think of how miserably hot summer will be. I dreamed I was the mistress of a silver-haired man with smile lines like etchings in raw clay. In fact he was a cross between Bernie Madoff, Tony Danza, and my friend's dad, Duncan. His wife caught him in bed with two men, and as I attempted to console her I asked if she would have felt better had it been a woman. She said she knew he had a mistress, too, and would find her. During this conversation a messenger arrived for me with a 20 euro bill. I offered a 20 dollar bill in return, then felt silly; I have no idea what the exchange rate is.
Some days ago, I had a layover in LA, and my parents came to meet me at the airport. My mom brought me the spring's first strawberries. My dad gave me cab fare.
1 comment:
and you didn't call me? I would have given you cab fare and strawberries!
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