The Seeds of Hiroshima [antikvár]

A FIB is better than the sharp knife of truth. To teli my simpering bird that her love days are over would be like carving up Mrs Bullfinch's aged heart Yet how to get her back from her tryst in the bamboo grove? The splutter of my brother-in-Iaw's motorcycle sounds impatient. 'Please, Mrs Bullfinch, for once give in,' I call to her from the open shojii. 'A little pliancy, darling, will take away those stubborn lines around your beak. Dozo, Mrs Bullfinch/ I cajole her. Swi-ish! A streak of feathers and my ancient bird's back in her cage, pecking away at a spicy black rftdish. Oh, I must be off - it's unthinkable to keep a man waiting! I send a last look around. Yes, everything's prepared. When my children come back from Aunt Matsui's, they'll find their futons laid out, their rice steaming. How cosy, this little room with the summer rain fali ing outside! Ali thanks to