On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Published bbaaafbw

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on my shoulders and back.
The first time I turned a tap onits noisywastefulsuperabundant gush was such a shock that I
became incoherent and my legs collapsed beneath me and I fainted in the arms of a nurse.
The first time I went to an Indian restaurant in Canada I used my fingers. The waiter looked at me
critically and said“Fresh off the boatare you?” I blanched. My fingerswhich a second before had
been taste buds savouring the food a little ahead of my mouthbecame dirty under his gaze. They
froze like criminals caught in the act. I didn’t dare lick them. I wiped them guiltily on my napkin. He
had no idea how deeply those words wounded me. They were like nails being driven into my flesh. I
picked up the knife and fork. I had hardly ever used such instruments. My hands trembled. My
sambar lost its taste.
C H A P T E R 2
He lives in Scarborough. He’s a smallslim man
—no more than five foot five. Dark hairdark eyes.
Hair greying at the temples. Cant be older than forty. Pleasing coffee-coloured complexion. Mild fall
weatheryet puts on a big winter parka with fur-lined hood for the walk to the diner. Expressive
face. Speaks quicklyhands flitting about. No small talk. He launches forth
.
C H A P T E R 3
I was n [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]