"Eliot Fintushel - Izzy and the Father of Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fintushel Eliot)

sat down. Gypsy sat again, carefully. He
said to her, "He knows."



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Our eyes met. When she breathed, I
breathed. She seemed to nod, and I
understood that she was acknowledging our
kinship. "How?" she said. "Please tell me
how you know about us."

Her voice thrilled and pacified me at
once. I thought, This is what it feels
like to be an angel. Through her voice, as
through a channel, I felt down inside her,
to where her voice came from. I felt the
blood bathing in oxygen inside her lungs.
I felt the quiver of her vocal chords, the
undulations of her tongue, the way the
cartilage in her nose resonated with each
vowel.

"IтАЩve been through a lot," I said.

NoraтАЩs forehead wrinkled ever so slightly.
With exquisite concern she sighed, "Oh!"
She reached across the table and laid her
hand on mine. It was all I could do not to
burst into tears. "Tell me," she said.
"Tell me, Mel. Tell me everything."



11. My Debriefing

"IтАЩm twenty-three. IтАЩm from . . ." I
couldnтАЩt remember where I was from. "I
took off because I wanted . . . you,
Nora." Saying that was like coming. She
just kept looking at me, unruffled, like a
calm ocean, a sunset, a mother, the moon.
"I wanted you, and you werenтАЩt there in .
. ." I drew a blank. "So I started
hitching around. My mom is . . ." What was
Mom? "Well, of course, I didnтАЩt tell
myself I was looking for you. I was headed
for Yucat├бn to see the eclipse. I was