Another one of Thomas Debaggio’s words. Is is American for bartering? I don’t know and don’t really care. I like being outside of words sometimes – just enjoying the sound and look of them without the commonplace-ness of meaning. I continue to relish his book. I catch, grab only snatches during breakfast, in between the constant getting up and sitting down of peeing (water pills) and attending to him and myself. It’s OK, I choose it. But oh, how I would love to devote a day to reading. Can I?
I watched a man who is clearly moving in to one of the flats in the estate wrestle with the base of a two-seater sofa. He’d brought it in a hire van and it took him some time to get it out again. Then there was the manoeuvre of humping it onto his back so that he could carry it. He was a tall man and wore a long herringbone coat. He looked Eastern European. I watched him from an upstairs window wondering if I should run down and help him. Though whether I’d be strong enough to offer much help was doubtful. He managed it. And walked, no struggled, looking like a sofa with legs, with it to his new home.
