Reklam
As a result of crossing the lines of race and religion, however, converts experience a sudden, unexpected fall in social status that arises from being both German and Muslim
Song of Myself (I)
1
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
2
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
Tella
When she opened it, several red rose petals fell onto her palm, along with a
key. Delicate green glass. Similar to the one she’d been given for her room,
only this key had a number five etched into it, and attached to it was a tiny
black ribbon, which held a wide slip of paper with one name: Donatella
Dragna
“I didn’t know the word vulture was a curse,” said Scarlett.
“The way you used it made it sound like one.”
“You’d curse too if you had a sister who was kidnapped as part of this
game.”
“There you go again thinking too highly of me, Crimson. If I had a sister
who was kidnapped for this game, I’d use it to my advantage. Stop feeling
sorry for yourself and come on.” Julian pushed off the wall and started toward
Tella’s ransacked room.
Scarlett double-checked the note attached to her key. The only words on
the note were her sister’s name, but below that was a wide swath of empty
space. Crossing over to the closest stained-glass candled lamp, Scarlett held
the page up as Tella had done with the tickets from Legend. Sure enough, new
lines of elegant script appeared.
After a moment the poem disappeared, and a new set of words took its
place.
It’s raining and the umbrellas are out in this playful composition. Against the
strong black-and-white lines of a street crossing in Tokyo, three flashes of
colour – red, green and blue – enter the frame. Their placement is so random,
but linger on the image a little longer and you realize that the usual rules somehow don’t apply and everything is exactly where it should be.
