Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh
Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh

Summary/Abstract: Through the window I have sent out into the night that whole heavy stench seeping through the cracks round the thin double door of the bedroom and gathering in a suffocating cloud of foul sepulchral odor. From the next room I can still hear the thick porcelain wash-basin ringing with the deepest notes of percussion instruments, and in that ancient chime I make out the squeezing and squirting of the sponge with which my wife’s unhappy hands are washing Madonna’s abdomen. I shudder in the damp south wind and do not yet dare breathe with even half my lungs. Even the tea is poisoned: I just steam my face and eyes in the rum evaporating from the warm cup. From the bedroom Madonna croaks: “Me romperà the cups, quel wretch in there! He’ll smash everything!”

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