The immaculate - 5
When the greyhound ran out into the middle of the deserted street, I thought its owner must be near. But no, it broke into a whirl, with its huge Persian paws spread out in a tight ring of a race until a dog-sigh broke its stride and night’s calm wonder was able to creep in undisturbed. Out in the distance, the obscure and by now invisible hills; next to it, the eggy streetlight, wrapped up in mosquitoes and bizarre webs. And I remained stoically on the balcony, waiting for the phone call from America, standing guard on memories beyond confession, silent and prostrated under a moment of stillness. But in the house across the street, a blast of light went on and off between the shutters, in a close to nothing second. More a space between nothings, a now that flew by and back just like that. I looked again and the curtains were moving, as if someone were causing them to move. What the hell was going on?
(to be continued)