(no subject)
1. Cupboards - that’s right - of precious wood installed by joiners for all of Bobby’s things - all the things Bobby will need in life for pleasure and for emergencies.
2. Candles?
1. Well naturally there are candles, boxes of matches, fresh figs, generators and barrels of oil. But there’s also a shelf full of oak trees, and another where pine forests border a mountain lake. If you press a concealed knob a secret drawer pops open - inside is the island of Manhattan. And if you pull the drawers out, spilling the bone-handled knives and chickens onto the floor, spilling out the chain-saws and the harpsichords, there at the back, in the dark space at the back, is the city of Paris with a cloth over it to keep the dust out. There’s a wardrobe full of uranium and another full of cobalt. Bobby’s suits are hanging over a Japanese golf course. His shoes share boxes with cooked praws. On one little shelf there’s a row of universities - good ones - separated by restaurants where chefs are using the deep-fryers to melt gold and cast it into souvenir life-sized Parthenons. And hanging from the shelf, like the Beethoven quartets and fertility clinics, is the key, the key to use in emergencies, the key to get out of the house.
Martin Crimp, Fewer Emergencies