"Simon Ings - The Wedding Party" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ings Simon)

to. Things to read to him. But sound does not touch his spirit, and never
has. He was born all eyes.

Even with all this equipment I cannot for the life of me jerry-rig the
mirror he asks me for, so that he might look out of the window at the
skyтАФтАЭThe sky, at least!тАЭ

Of course he cannot be moved.

тАЬIt was a long time ago.тАЭ I am back to my reas-surances. I really
should have made a tape. A recorded lecture in an authoritative
voiceтАФTom Baker or Leonard Nimoy. IтАЩve done this so many times now IтАЩm
starting to whinge. тАЬWe didnтАЩt know as much, then.тАЭ тАЬHope had really bad
luck.тАЭ As soon as I opened the bags I knew it was hopeless, though I tried,
God knows I tried. In that Calais motel room, the seams had closed so tight
and pink around HopeтАЩs limbs, there was no hint of trouble. But when we
got to England and I opened the bags to reassemble herтАФthe seams had
gone the brown of a pineapple cut through and left to the air. Some seams
had parted alto-gether and dark little puckers had formed round each
breach.

There was no smell. It all looked fresh enough. But thereтАЩs fresh and
then thereтАЩs fresh. As Hope and I discovered.

тАЬItтАЩs so much safer now.тАЭ

At last, he begs me to put him to sleep. So we sleep. Our last night in
Ouistreham, our last night in France. I havenтАЩt the energy to leave his side,
so I shuck off my shoes and my shirt and my shorts and I curl up beside
him, under the sheet.

Lay your hand on a manтАЩs chest, on his belly. There is so much bone
and muscle in the way of the true treasuresтАФthe miracles of liver, kidneys,
spleen, and heart. But touch his back, below the rib cageтАФand they are
tantalizingly close.

Like this, Redson is a chest indeed, a box of clever treasures. Sea
creatures dream away their incarceration inside him. Wrapped up in each
other, joined together mouth-to-anus by slick bonds only CrohnтАЩs disease
can reveal and eventu-ally break, they are utterly dependent upon each
other. And yet they are so different, each organ so utterly unlike its
neighborтАФhow could they dream that they are One? Where does this
dream of One-ness come from? When must we let it go?

In June of the millennium year, 2000тАФa Dutch lorry driver called
Perry Wacker entered Britain in a rapid transit TIR lorry crammed with
fifty-eight Chinese immigrants. He remembered to shut the lorryтАЩs sole
ventilation flap, so as not to arouse the suspicions of customs officers. But
he forgot to open it again.