Коллекционер

           It’snotworthdozensofthingshe’sdonesince.

           Butreal.

           IkisseditwhenIunwrappedit.I’vebeenlookingatsomeofthelinesnotaslines,butasthingshehastouched.Allmorning.Now.

           Notlove.Humanity.

           CalibanwassurprisedthatIseemedsopositivelygaywhenhecamein.Ithankedhimforallhehadbought.Isaid,youcan’tbeaproperprisonerifyoudon’ttrytoescapeandnowdon’tlet’stalkaboutit—agreed?

           Hesaidthathe’dtelephonedeverygalleryIgavehimthenameof.Therewasonlytheonething.

           Thankyouverymuch,Isaid.MayIkeepitdownhere?AndwhenIgo,I’llgiveittoyou.(Ishan’t—hesaidhe’dratherhaveadrawingofmine,inanycase.)

           Iaskedhimifhehadpostedtheletter.Hesaidhehad,butIsawhewasgoingred.ItoldhimIbelievedhimandthatitwouldbesuchadirtytricknottoposttheletterthatIwassurehemusthavepostedit.

           Ifeelalmostcertainhefunkedit,ashefunkedthecheque.Itwouldbejustlikehim.ButnothingIsaywillmakehimpostit.SoI’vedecidedthatIwillsupposehehaspostedit.

           Midnight.Ihadtostop.Hecamedown.

           We’vebeenplayingtherecordshebought.

           Bartok’sMusicforPercussionandCelesta.

           Theloveliest.

           ItmademethinkofColliourelastsummer.Thedaywewent,allfourofuswiththeFrenchstudents,upthroughtheilexestothetower.Theilexes.Anabsolutelynewcolour,amazingchestnut,rufous,burning,bleeding,wheretheyhadcutawaythecork.Thecicadas.