Коллекционер

           It’stypicalofthestatesIgetinhere—Isuddenlytoldmyselfthatthediggingwouldhavetobedoneoveranumberofdays,theonlystupidthingwastoexpecttodoitallinone.

           SoIspentalongtimetryingtohidetheplace.

           Butitwasnogood,littlebitsfellout,andI’dstartedinthemostobviousplace,wherehe’sboundtospotit.

           SoIgaveup.Isuddenlydecideditwasallpetty,stupid,useless.Likeabaddrawing.Unrescuable.

           Whenhecameatlast,hesawitatonce.Healwayssniffsroundassoonasheenters.ThenhestartedtoseehowfarIhadgone.Isatonthebedandwatchedhim.IntheendIthrewthenailathim.

           He’scementedthestonesback.Hesaysit’ssolidchalkbehindallthewayround.

           Iwouldn’tspeaktohimalltheevening,orlookatthethingshe’dbought,eventhoughIcouldseeoneofthemwasapicture-frame.

           Itookasleeping-pillandwenttobedstraightaftersupper.

           Then,thismorning(Iwokeupearly)beforehecamedown,Idecidedtopassitoffassomethingunimportant.Tobenormal.

           Nottogivein.

           Iunpackedallthethingshe’dbought.Firstofall,therewasG.P.’spicture.Itisadrawingofagirl(youngwoman),anude,notlikeanythingelseofhisIhaveseen,andIthinkitmustbesomethinghedidalongtimeago.Itishis.Ithashissimplicityofline,hatredoffussiness,ofTopolskitis.She’shalf-turnedaway,hanginguportakingdownadressfromahook.Aprettyface?It’sdifficulttosay.RatheraheavyMaillolbody.