112
I)ARTI SAN R EV IEW
We take him to hi s bed. The smell of blood makes me dizzy; m y
fath er' s eyes open and pi erce my breast. Thi s time, as an exception , I must
chan ge the dressin g on hi s wounds. He closes his eyes. I un cover his throat:
the two hol es stare at me like two ho llow eyes. Anka's image is bloodi ed
in m y thoughts; I think o f her and m y fa th er's blood co lors the image.
Anka is bathed in blood, pain and terro r.
It's getting dark. A spray of yellow blood dri es on my fin gers. Those
two eyes now no t onl y stare, but brea th e. The thi ck, humid and greasy
smell makes me sleepy, giddy and draws me close r. I just mi ght fall onto
my fath er's breas t. A dog is whimperin g in th e hall; I don ' t know why. My
mother whips it. The sharp blows echo from hi s soft, young and plump
body. Those two eyes stare at me fi xedl y: I feel as though I were loo kin g
at hell. It smell s of sulfur, burnin g and corpses . Th e smells daze me, the
sounds irritate me; m y fath er's fa ce becomes a g rimace, hi s lower lip large,
white and dribbling.
Somethin g terribl e is building inside me: those smell s, those co lo rs,
those sounds turn so lid , ri gid and , like an iron fi st, th ey g rab m y throa t, m y
breast, m y heart . Everythin g is fill ed with matter: the sound of the bl ows ,
th e smell of decay and th e co lor of blood. My senses are fill ed with fl esh ,
m y images col o red in blood . I do n' t kn ow what I'm do in g. It's like m y
fath er, m y moth er and m yself are but a shapel ess mass o f fl esh , like in a
butcher' s shop. Our fe elings and thoughts are but a solution smellin g of
protopl as m , blood and garbage; o ur souls but a cesspool o f ca rnal mass.
When I left hi s room , m y mo th er was still sco ldin g th e dog. He had
gotten into th e bathroom and drunk m y fath er's blood, li ckin g th e dirty
ston e even mo re passionatel y under her bl ows.
The sun se t quite a whil e ago. I won' t be o n time. Anka must have
already left. As I was leav ing, m y moth er sa id beggin gly: "Come back
soo n. H e mi ght pass away. I am all alo ne. God kn ows wheth er your aunt
will come toni ght. R.eturn immedi atel y."
Her eyewhites were g ray.
We w ired m y b ro th ers to come. Mo th er wa nted me to w rite: " Fath er
is dyin g." Sh e is do in g all she can to gath er us all around the hea rth . My
bro th ers are coming. And th ey w ill j o in m y Ill o th er in fo rcin g me to stay
at home and forge t abou t An ka.
My senses are still fi lled w ith m y
f~1th e r' s
bl ood, hi s wo unds and the
stench . The soun ds of soft and greasy blows resoun d in m y ears .
Everythin g is dri vin g me in to m y love r's arms.
I ~ i ght
away, now, whil e I'm
still full o f sick smel ls and cr uelty. My fat her was bendin g in Illy ar ms and
I never th o ught it mi ght be pain ful fo r him .Just like m y back was bendin g
unde r hi s fi sts and he hadn ' t th ough t it mi gh t hurt me. My mo th er beat
the dog into a bloody pulp fo r drinking m y fa th er's blood. What a bea uti-
