We danced; Phlox was trying to speak to me in French. She said amorous things. I answered promptly in English, mentioning also that Id read that it was nowadays considered in poor taste to talk of love in French. Dont be mean to me, she said, laughing. I laughed. She wriggled, minutely, in her strapless dress. I looked more closely at her makeup, and could see, as she glanced suddenly over her shoulder, that she had indeed been a punk sometime in the recent past; her eye shadow and blush defied her looks, rather than enhancing them, her ears had been pierced many times, and there was even, I thought, a dimpled trace of the piercing of her nose. ---The Mysteries of Pittsburg (Michael Chabon)
Posted on: Sun, 01 Dec 2013 15:19:49 +0000