Scapegoat and
lamb. In the Manchester tram a
teenager screams obscenities at an
immigrant who is not one. There's a quiet woman behind the phone that
records it. Everyone in the car remains quiet, except when a baby's
involved. “No one in the park speaks English.” A friend in
Florida said she didn't study
Spanish because she thought people wanted their own
language in the
elevator. Reduction into stock answers; there's not much soup there,
save what runs off
a stone. “They're afraid,” they voted Remain. What remains of the
day is a baby-faced thug and his ugly words. I cue up the short video
from Puff N' Stuff, around
the corner from
Turnham Green's
tube stop; there's Mrs.
Sethe, and here's her address. Other
shopkeepers were less friendly to Americans. It was autumn, 2002. At
the corner florist shop, the tulips were so vivid
they nearly sang.
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