Listening to the Other Side
Future historians, archaeologists, archivists, always surprised by the humbleness of the circumstance, just as he had been when he had gone to visit Paul Bowles half a century before; then one of the world's most famous and admired writers. They were fucking with his head. There was an ice addict living in his front bedroom, his mother's old room. Craigie had shown up in the early hours of one morning, on the off, sleeping rough down near the railway lines, having fallen out with his parents in some screaming match during which the police were called. Much of what Craigie said didn't make a lot of sense; and every time Old Alex tried to make sense of it, he just felt sadder still. Craigie thought the neighbours were talking about him. Maybe they were. He hadn't invited him in; he just kind of stayed and moved his junk in without any invitation and actually, without making a specific request. And would show up every few days, sleep it off, have a shower, something to...