That’s them, said Gabriel, and he turned about in his chair and looked back at the blue kiosk. Gabriel was squinting and holding one knee up in his arms. The negritas, he said. I walked over to the kiosk and I put my hand on the bar next to the two girls.
I took a bus to the very tip of Australia, which, if you know it, looks like a finger pointing north. And then I swam or else I took a small boat, or a chartered aeroplane, to Indonesia. I moved up through Asia like an urgent wind, with my head down, stopping only to eat and to sleep.
In most writers’ workshops the members sit around discussing their work; they talk about themes and symbols and meaning and such matters. The six of us do none of this. Ours is a Waldo workshop.
I tried to empty my mind of the pictorial imagery and the snatches of songs or melodies that comprised its usual contents. If I could perform this task, so I supposed, then I would find myself in the presence of my mind alone, and I was curious to learn what would be the appearance of a mind devoid of contents: what my mind would prove ultimately to be composed of.
When we moved to the capital my mother resolved that we should make a new impression on the world too. Papá was often away on business and so Caetano drove — and as we passed from the new district into the old district of the city, I read the street names…
Lisa Halliday’s Asymmetry has been one of the first runaway literary success stories of 2018. A number of excerpts from the novel have appeared online; here’s a roundup of the places where you can get a feel for each of the book’s two, asymmetrical sections.
Do we ever truly see, or remember, the corpse of a loved one?