Black Butterflies Page #4

Run away.

Remember the poem, Jack?

Remember the running man on the beach?

Yeah, Run away,

You pathetic little man!

"Grain, little grain of sand,

pebble rolled in my hand,

pebble thrust in my pocket,

A keepsake for a locket.

Baby that screams from the womb.

Nothing is big in this tomb.

Quietly laugh now and speak.

Silence in dead-end street.

Little world round, Earth blue,

a granule I make out of you.

House with a door and two slits,

a garden where everything fits.

Small arrow feathered into space.

Love fades away from its place.

Carpenter seals a coffin that's bought.

I ready myself for the naught.

Small grain of sand is my

word, my breath.

Small grain of naught is my death."

Hello, Pa.

- Where's your sister?

- Ingrid?

You read this.

Most of it is exaggerated, Pa.

- You know what reporters are like.

- Why do you openly disagree...

- ...with my political views?

- Because I do.

But you don't say that to a reporter

from the Sunday times.

Are you mad?

Ingrid.

Come sit and listen to me nicely.

Anna, go to your room please.

Have you no respect for me?

I respect you very much, Pa.

Then why do you do

these things?

These people are only interested

in you because of me.

Do you realize that?

Why do you always try

and make me feel worthless?

Ingrid.

Grow up.

You can't do this to me.

It'll only be for a few months.

A few months is a lifetime.

I'll come with you to Natal.

I'll bring Simone.

I'd love to meet Helen.

- The boys wouldn't understand.

- You think children don't know...

...what's going on? They're children;

They know everything.

Ingrid.

Take it easy.

Waitress.

More wine.

The bus is full.

You must take the next one.

Please, I'm going to be late.

- Get off.

- But there are so many seats open.

- Let him have a seat.

- Whites only.

- Idiot!

- Get off my bus, you stupid communist b*tch.

Get your hands off her.

Bastard!

It's me you want to leave,

isn't it?

These last months have been

extraordinary, wonderful.

And I haven't been able to work.

You drain me, Ingrid.

Your timing is all messed up.

How do you mean?

You will come back, won't you?

I love you.

Jack.

Aren't you supposed to be at work?

I resigned.

- What?

- So I could see you off.

Please don't go.

Please don't go.

I have to.

You can't do this to us.

I'll call.

Hey, go.

Hi, darling.

Come here.

Come.

Come.

Hi, my darling.

Christ, Ingrid, you look like death.

I think I'm coming down with some flu.

Ingrid!

Don't be a stranger.

Come on up.

Jack's been trying to get hold of you.

Our phone's still disconnected.

Still no job?

I'm doing some proofreading

for human & Rousseau.

It's freelance,

But it pays the rent.

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