The ivy had climbed the stone wall again. It was thick now, a green bruise spreading across the grey. I sat in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight, and watched the leaves tremble. They moved as if breathing. I had been watching them for three days. The air in the study was stale, smelling of old paper and damp earth. Outside, the factory chimneys poked into the low, grey sky. Smoke...
Go back where you came from, they told me, and for a long time I studied that instruction the way I studied a machine that would not start. I came from a boat. You cannot go back to a boat. A boat is a place in motion; it is a direction with a ticket attached. So I stayed in the mill town, on the Blackstone, and I made my peace with the arithmetic, and in time I came to understand that the...
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