Коллекционер
Chapter 2
IthinkI’vebecomedeaf.IhavetomakealittlenoisetoproveI’mnot.Iclearmythroattoshowmyselfthateverything’squitenormal.It’slikethelittleJapanesegirltheyfoundintheruinsofHiroshima.Everythingdead;andshewassingingtoherdoll.
October25th
Imustmustmustescape.
Ispenthoursandhourstodaythinkingaboutit.Wildideas.He’ssocunning,it’sincredible.Foolproof.
ItmustseemInevertrytoescape.ButIcan’ttryeveryday,that’sthetrouble.Ihavetospaceouttheattempts.Andeachdayhereislikeaweekoutside.
Violenceisnogood.Itmustbecunning.
Face-to-face,Ican’tbeviolent.Theideamakesmefeelweakattheknees.IrememberwanderingwithDonaldsomewhereintheEastEndafterwe’dbeentotheWhitechapelandwesawagroupofteddiesstandingroundtwomiddle-agedIndians.Wecrossedthestreet,Ifeltsick.Theteddieswereshouting,chivvyingandbullyingthemoffthepavementontotheroad.Donaldsaid,whatcanonedo,andwebothpretendedtoshrugitoff,tohurryaway.Butitwasbeastly,theirviolenceandourfearofviolence.Ifhecametomenowandkneltandhandedmethepoker,Icouldn’thithim.
It’snogood.I’vebeentryingtosleepforthelasthalf-hour,andIcan’t.Writinghereisasortofdrug.It’stheonlythingIlookforwardto.ThisafternoonIreadwhatIwroteaboutG.P.thedaybeforeyesterday.Anditseemedvivid.
