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Affichage des articles du avril 19, 2017

"She was asking him to agree that her life was not a failure.”

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“She was fifty-three years old and lonely and oppressed; why couldn’t he let her have her illusions? That was what her wounded, half-drunken eyes had seemed to be saying throughout his interrogation: Why can’t I have my illusions?
Because they’re lies, he told her silently in his mind as he champed his jaws and swallowed the cheap food. Everything you say is a lie. […] Everything you live by is a lie, and you want to know what the truth is?
He watched her with murderous distaste as she fumbled with her spoon. They had ordered ice cream, and some of it clung to her lips as she rolled a cold mouthful on her tongue.
Do you want to know what the truth is? The truth is that your fingernails are all broken and black because you’re working as a laborer and God knows how we’re ever going to get you out of that lens-grinding shop. The truth is that I’m a private in the infantry and I’m probably going to get my head blown off. The truth is, I don’t really want to be sitting here at …