“Guarding this isn’t like guarding the open-air market back home. Here you wield an iron hand in a velvet glove. There, it’s just an iron hand. Nothing but poverty. I know what I’m talking about. Here it’s another world. An ancient, untroubled world. No one shouts or runs or spits on the floor. It’s nice and easy. I can even take a little nap. So afternoons here in Egyptian Art are sacred to me. It’s trouble when someone like you turns up. But you don’t see people like you or me here often. We’re left in peace.”
Some people give off a royal temperament no matter what.
“Nha cretcheu, my love, meeting again will brighten our lives for at least 30 years. I’ll return to you renewed and full of strength. I wish I could offer you 100,000 cigarettes, a dozen fancy new dresses, a car, that little lava house you always dreamed of, and a 40-cent bouquet...
...But most of all, drink a bottle of good wine and think of me. The work here never stops. There are over a hundred of us now. Two days ago, on my birthday, I thought about you for a long while. Did my letter arrive safely? Still no word from you...
...Maybe soon. Every day, every minute, I learn beautiful new words just for you and me, tailor-made for us both like fine silk pyjamas. I can only send you one letter a month. Still no word from you. Maybe soon...
...Sometimes I get scared building these walls, me with a pick and cement, you with your silence, pushing you ever deeper into a pit of forgetting. It hurts to see these things I don’t want to see. Your lovely hair slips through my fingers like dry grass. Sometimes I grow weak and think I’ll forget.”
Layering talk about baby wipes, crocodiles, wanting shrimp with beer, and anacondas. She can speak about anything she wants through bad coughing, and we listen, charm in her grit
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