She smoked as well, all the time. That’s Ove’s clearest memory of her,
how she sat in the kitchen window of the little house where they lived outside town,
with that billowing cloud around her, watching the sky every Saturday morning.
And how sometimes she sang in her hoarse voice and Ove used to sit under the window with his mathematics book in his lap,
and he remembered that he liked listening to her. He remembers that.
Of course, her voice was hoarse and the odd note was more discordant than one would have liked, but he remembers that he liked it anyway.
Ove’s father worked for the railways. The palms of his hands looked like someone had carved into leather with knives,
and the wrinkles in his face were so deep that when he exerted himself the sweat was channeled through them down to his chest.
His hair was thin and his body slender, but the muscles on his arms were so sharp that they seemed cut out of rock.
Once when Ove was very young he was allowed to go with his parents to a big party with his dad’s friends from the rail company.
After his father had put away a couple of bottles of pilsner, some of the other guests challenged him to an arm-wrestling competition.
Ove had never seen the like of these giants straddling the bench opposite him.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색