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Show 88 in relation to the head. Squinting broke the thing into particles, however, and it struck him while he was squinting that these distortions weren't necessarily mistakes. They could have been deliberate. There was a certain self-contained integrity to the different parts, and the way they did not fit together gave a certain organic instability to the whole construct. That the two halves of a plate in a Cezanne still-life failed to line up on either side of a foreground candlestick had never bothered anybody. Yoram opened one eye as Lorin picked up the drawing from the bed and carried it back to the table. He moved as quietly as he could, because Yoram was generally considerate when Lorin was trying to sleep, but there was an unavoidably loud and prolonged hiss from the pressurized can of fixative he had to spray across the drawing, and then he had to open the window because the smell always made his salivary glands hurt, and that made a little noise too. "Sorry," he whispered. Yoram rolled over and faced the wall. Lorin had to put fixative on now because Nelson, the third roommate, would be coming in before Lorin was through in the kitchen, and he always threw his clothes on the table, and Lorin had no other place to leave the drawing. He put the can of fixative away, returned the stack of books to Yoram's shelf, hung the mirror back in the bathroom, and tiptoed out the door into the corridor shared by the Baptist, Lutheran, Methodist and LDS offices, and went downstairs to the kitchen. It was Lorin's week to run the dishwasher. It was after midnight and he hadn't started yet, and there had been a Hi 1 lei banquet that evening. Plates thick with cold gravy and broken piles of mashed potato lay strewn across every available counter space where Nelson had left them after clearing the tables in the recreation hall. He had made a gesture at stacking some of them to make room for the glass |
