21
This house tempts with illusion. N. went into one of the rooms – he was looking for an axe to fix a wonky step on the veranda. He went in – and stood stock still. He was surrounded by mirrors, by myriad emanations of himself. A small boy wearing a child’s hat embroidered with little cats. Or a student with a notebook under his arm. And here, the Someone he had been before he became Noone. And here, as he is today. Or here, a strange stranger with a predatory grimace, an axe in his hand, a readiness to kill written on his face… Kill… For some reason, that word arouses an odd pain in him… Pezzo Capriccioso Something had happened earlier, he was familiar with this nagging pain, this odd state. Anyway, it was most likely to do with someone else, not with him. With Someone. But he, well, he
