wearing white shoes and a blue pleated skirt, he’s left his jacket hanging on a chair and rolled up his shirtsleeves; ask her to dance … make her laugh, boy, can’t you see how her eyes sparkle, the lights of the square flicker inside them, Chinese paper lanterns, a bouzouki player’s just arrived, an old man who understands lovers, he’s seen so many of them dancing in his lifetime, this old man understands everything, he’s started to play “Tha Xanarthis” … of course you’ll come back, the woman says, you’re already back, and she laughs, she curls her hand around his neck and draws him close, people are clapping, they’ve made a circle around them, she runs her fingers through his hair and then she kisses him, other musicians have arrived, a lively scene now, everyone starts dancing, an old man is dancing by himself, hands raised, as though he’s clutching the air, and only his feet in leather boots are dancing, these two are frozen in the crush of dancers, they’re like a statue of two bodies the sculptor’s extracted from one stone,they keep their eyes closed, their foreheads drawn together as though they’re exchanging thoughts, thinking the same thing, that the boat for Crete departs tomorrow morning at seven and there’s a festival in Piraeus, so why bother going back to the city to sleep … I know a boarding house down by the harbor, Daphne says, when my grandfather came to study in Athens he stayed there, now it’s owned by Stratis, who’s from my town, I’d like to go and say hello, he knew me as a girl, I think he’d be happy to see me with you, Tristano.
You never did get that big fly out of here, you’re a liar just like Frau, can’t you hear it – or do you think my own ears are buzzing? – maybe they are, but what I’m hearing is a big fly, I know I’m right, get it out of here, open the shutters a little, you’ll see, it’ll find its way out, that much light won’t bother me, I’ll close my eyes, what time is it, is it already past noon? It’s afternoon, must be three, mmm, it feels like afternoon … strange, even from this bed, I can tell it’s afternoon – I can hear it – the afternoon has its own way of breathing, its own fragrance, a sound and a sniff, and there’s also a rooster that starts crowing in the afternoon, stupid rooster, what’s he got to crow about? – thinks he’s so brave, but he’s not brave at all, just puffed up and stupid, there were two men up in those mountains once, both brave men, fighting the same battle, but they were divided about the future of their country, he was one of them, behind that boulder, staring at a flower, the three western brigades wouldpass to his command, but he had to become a hero first, it’s not remotely easy to become a hero: a millimeter to the right and you’re a hero, a millimeter to the left and you’re a coward, it’s a matter of millimeters, he was there, staring at a flower, and the countryside before him was his arena, would he win the fight or shit his pants?… that can happen, you’re about to be a hero and everything turns to shit … Please, open the shutters, it must be evening already, I know, I was wrong before … are you getting all this down?… get it down word for word, you’re free to write other things the way you want, but not this part, no, write down my every word … Open the shutters a little, let the breeze in … heroism often – no – nearly always turns to shit – but you can’t say this, you can’t bring children up on this, how would you put your hand over your heart, because after heroism you have to put your hand over your heart, when you stand before the flag, you stand there, waiting for that cross on your chest, the authorities all lined up in front of you … war cross … not just any fucking medal … there’s the president of the Republic with his wife, Christ, what a pair, Tristano is watching them, luckily it’s just an
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You never did get that big fly out of here, you’re a liar just like Frau, can’t you hear it – or do you think my own ears are buzzing? – maybe they are, but what I’m hearing is a big fly, I know I’m right, get it out of here, open the shutters a little, you’ll see, it’ll find its way out, that much light won’t bother me, I’ll close my eyes, what time is it, is it already past noon? It’s afternoon, must be three, mmm, it feels like afternoon … strange, even from this bed, I can tell it’s afternoon – I can hear it – the afternoon has its own way of breathing, its own fragrance, a sound and a sniff, and there’s also a rooster that starts crowing in the afternoon, stupid rooster, what’s he got to crow about? – thinks he’s so brave, but he’s not brave at all, just puffed up and stupid, there were two men up in those mountains once, both brave men, fighting the same battle, but they were divided about the future of their country, he was one of them, behind that boulder, staring at a flower, the three western brigades wouldpass to his command, but he had to become a hero first, it’s not remotely easy to become a hero: a millimeter to the right and you’re a hero, a millimeter to the left and you’re a coward, it’s a matter of millimeters, he was there, staring at a flower, and the countryside before him was his arena, would he win the fight or shit his pants?… that can happen, you’re about to be a hero and everything turns to shit … Please, open the shutters, it must be evening already, I know, I was wrong before … are you getting all this down?… get it down word for word, you’re free to write other things the way you want, but not this part, no, write down my every word … Open the shutters a little, let the breeze in … heroism often – no – nearly always turns to shit – but you can’t say this, you can’t bring children up on this, how would you put your hand over your heart, because after heroism you have to put your hand over your heart, when you stand before the flag, you stand there, waiting for that cross on your chest, the authorities all lined up in front of you … war cross … not just any fucking medal … there’s the president of the Republic with his wife, Christ, what a pair, Tristano is watching them, luckily it’s just an
Incom
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