martes, 14 de febrero de 2012

Tindersticks; My Sister.

She went blind at the age of five. We'd stand at the bedroom window and she'd 
get me to tell her what I saw. I'd describe the houses opposite, the little
patch of grass next to the path, the gate with its rotten hinges forever wedged
open that Dad was always going to fix. She'd stand there quiet for a moment. I
thought she was trying to develop the images in her own head. Then she'd say:

 I can see little twinkly stars,
like Christmas tree lights in faraway windows.
Rings of brightly coloured rocks
floating around orange and mustard planets.
I can see huge tiger striped fishes
chasing tiny blue and yellow dashes,
all tails and fins and bubbles.
I'd look at the grey house opposite, and close the curtains.
She burned down the house when she was ten. I was away camping with the scouts.
The fireman said she'd been smoking in bed - the old story, I thought. The cat
and our mum died in the flames, so Dad took us to stay with our Aunt in the
country. He went back to London to find us a new house. We never saw him again.


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