1. Oricum, fiu-său povestea despre el ca despre un bărbat dispărut.

Trăia fără griji între zidurile

grădinii cu leandri şi, din când în când, îi făcea plăcere să i se spună că e odrasla celei de-a doua
Shirin a Iranului. Doar bunicu-său nu îndrăgea asta şi de multe ori profeţea despre fiică-sa că o s-
o sfârşească atârnată de cârligul unei spânzurători. Imaginea maică-sii fluturând ca o ştiucă în
undiţă îl speria: era singură şi viaţa i se scurgea ca o apă care nu ia cu ea şi noroiul […]. (Daniela
Zeca – Omar cel orb)

However, his son would speak of him as if he were missing. He would live unabatedly within the walls of
the oleander garden and, once in a while, he used to love being told that he was the offspring of the
second Shirin of Iran. His grandfather was the only one who didn’t fancy that and he used to often
prophesize about his daughter end up hanging from a scaffold hook. The image of my mother hanging as
a pike on the fishing rod scared him: she was alone and life would drain as water which will not carry
away the mud….

2. The summers were short, but desperately hot, ending usually in a week of storms, followed by a
mellow autumn and then a long, bitter winter, with blizzards and gales. For night after night,
lying two miles inland in her cot at the top of the ladder, Pitiable would fall asleep to the sound
of waves raging along the outer shore, and wake to the same sound. Between the gales there
would be still, clear days with the sun no more than a handsbreadth above the horizon, and its
light glittering off mile after mile of thigh-deep snow. Then spring, and thaw and mud and slush
and the reek of all the winter’s rubbish, rotting at last. Then searing summer again. (Peter
Dickinson – Mermaid Song)

Verile erau scurte, dar disperant de fierbinti, sfarsind de obicei cu o saptamana de furtuni,
urmata de o toamna blanda iar apoi de o iarna lunga si aspra, cu crivat si vijelii. Noapte de
noapte, intins pe doua mile de uscat in patul de la capatul scarii, Pitiable adormea pe zgomotul
valurilor zbatandu-se de tarm si se trezea ascultand acelasi zgomot. Intre furtuni erau zile de
accalmie, senine, cu un soare abia zarit la linia orizontului iar lumina lui facea sa straluceasca
culmile nesfarsite de nea. Apoi primavara, si moina si zloata si mirosurile de gunoaie putrezite
de pe timpul iernii. Apoi vara arzatoare din nou.