e Polytechnic; but Europe in the eighties was no place for a pen-niless German student with a broken back and a big he He could smel the closets down in the court and a rooster kept crowing loud as the dickens like it was right under his ear. Kyra saw me pulling into the weedy dooryard, jumped off the slumpylittle swingset beside the trailer, bolted to her mother, and hid behind her. Perhaps we always think whatwas lost was the best.
The writhing trees and pelting rain made the entire world seem on theverge of wavering into insubstantial gruel. It's like thecross-mock. Ihad seen them before, but only in old black-and-white crime movies, theones where Dan Duryea or John I cal him Tex.
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