Читать книгу Kin - Dror Burstein - Страница 6

LEAH

Once there was a big white house, and we went to the white house, and in the house there were lots of little children, teeny little children, and it was a big house, and we went inside the big house, and there were lots of children there, and one of the children had a nose like a potato, full of lumps, like some kind of old uncle, an uncle, not a child at all, an uncle; and there was a child with green snot smeared over her face, and a child who screamed and cried, and a child with lips the color of bitter chocolate, bitter chocolate gone bad, yuck, and a child with an ugly sore, and there were other children too. And I don’t remember the other children, and your father definitely doesn’t remember them, and I can hardly remember the child with the potato nose and the child with eyes like glass marbles, and the child who barked like a dog, and the child who crept into the stove to hide, and the uncle, we forgot the uncle a long time ago, the uncle is already dead, because there’s only one child I remember, and this child was quiet as can be, and he had a little nose, and he breathed quietly, he didn’t grunt or whistle, and we said at once: this is the child, and we pointed to this child straightaway, and we didn’t take our eyes off him until they came and took him out of his cot and gave him to us and put him in our arms. And we took him in our arms and we didn’t take anyone else, and we knew right away that it was you.