Девять рассказов

           Workingmostlyinwashes,butoccasionally,toshowoff,inline,Idrewpeopleineveningclothessteppingoutoflimousinesonopeningnights—lean,erect,super-chiccoupleswhohadobviouslyneverintheirlivesinflictedsufferingasaresultofunderarmcarelessness—couples,infact,whoperhapsdidn’thaveanyunderarms.Idrewsuntannedyounggiantsinwhitedinnerjackets,seatedatwhitetablesalongsideturquoiseswimmingpools,toastingeachother,ratherexcitedly,withhighballsmadefromacheapbutostensiblyultrafashionablebrandofryewhisky.Idrewruddy,billboard-genicchildren,besidethemselveswithdelightandgoodhealth,holdinguptheiremptybowlsofbreakfastfoodandpleading,good-naturedly,formore.Idrewlaughing,high-breastedgirlsaquaplaningwithoutacareintheworld,asaresultofbeingamplyprotectedagainstsuchnationalevilsasbleedinggums,facialblemishes,unsightlyhairs,andfaultyorinadequatelifeinsurance.Idrewhousewiveswho,untiltheyreachedfortherightsoapflakes,laidthemselveswideopentostragglyhair,poorposture,unrulychildren,disaffectedhusbands,rough(butslender)hands,untidy(butenormous)kitchens.

           Whenthesampleswerefinished,ImailedthemimmediatelytoM.Yoshoto,alongwithahalf-dozenorsonon-commercialpaintingsofminethatI’dbroughtwithmefromFrance.