What did we see in the theatre? I remember one set, in particular, a conservatory with a stuffed tiger. Oh yes, and Shakespeare and things—I begin to remember—‘Sweet, my coz!’ ‘Do with me as you will, Alistair.’‘Nay, he hath but a little beard.’‘A mystic, I assure you.’‘Had enough, that’s all. Don’t blame you, Maggie. Don’t blame nobody. Guess it’s just you cain’t escape from bein’ what you are.’ ‘Who are you, my lord?’ Blue London. How was it? Louise and I holding hands in the gallery queue, on a chill, November night, listening to the low, judicious murmurs of our fellow seekers after culture. No, we liked the theatre, didn’t we, Louise? We fed on it, and the cinema and exhibitions—marvellous things, clear and urgent, in comparison with which the vastness and ambiguity of real life seemed as indecipherable as Etruscan. For the hour, perhaps more, of our wait, our breath plumed into the sharp air. Opposite, the discreet red neon sign of the opulent restaurant proclaimed ‘Pierre’s Sea Food’.
What do You think about As Near As I Can Get (2014)?
