1984
Chapter 1
Itwascuriousthatheseemednotmerelytohavelostthepowerofexpressinghimself, buteventohaveforgottenwhatitwasthathehadoriginallyintendedtosay. Forweekspasthehadbeenmakingreadyforthismoment, andithadnevercrossedhismindthatanythingwouldbeneededexceptcourage. Theactualwritingwouldbeeasy. Allhehadtodowastotransfertopapertheinterminablerestlessmonologue thathadbeenrunninginsidehishead,literallyforyears. Atthismoment,however,eventhemonologuehaddriedup. Moreoverhisvaricoseulcerhadbegunitchingunbearably. Hedarednotscratchit,becauseifhedidsoitalwaysbecameinflamed. Thesecondsweretickingby. Hewasconsciousofnothingexcepttheblanknessofthepageinfrontofhim, theitchingoftheskinabovehisankle, theblaringofthemusic, andaslightboozinesscausedbythegin.
Suddenlyhebeganwritinginsheerpanic, onlyimperfectlyawareofwhathewassettingdown. Hissmallbutchildishhandwritingstraggledup anddownthepage, sheddingfirstitscapitalletters andfinallyevenitsfullstops:
April4th,1984. Lastnighttotheflicks. Allwarfilms. Oneverygoodoneofashipfullofrefugees beingbombedsomewhereintheMediterranean. Audiencemuchamusedbyshotsofagreathugefatman tryingtoswimawaywithahelicopterafterhim, firstyousawhimwallowingalonginthewaterlikeaporpoise, thenyousawhimthroughthehelicoptersgunsights, thenhewasfullofholesandthesearoundhimturnedpink andhesankassuddenlyasthoughtheholeshadletinthewater, audienceshoutingwithlaughterwhenhesank. thenyousawalifeboatfullofchildren withahelicopterhoveringoverit. therewasamiddle-agedwoman mighthavebeenajewesssittingupinthebowwithalittleboy aboutthreeyearsoldinherarms.
