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Authors: James Kelman

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My companion was onto her feet and walking to the exit. I did not follow then. Children were on the stage, now from it, making their exit, the band behind them, and the applause from people.

I walked to the front hallway and lobby, could not see her, so to the tables, bench seats, rooms for men, for women, no, I could not see her. I waited, she did not come, so continued to
wait.

People were there, and to the exit. Perhaps if she had gone outside of the theatre, would she do this alone, if she so was so foolish, she would do it, I knew her, if only weeks yet I knew her,
anything she might do, she was capable, taking all risks if so necessary, she would do it, in all situations, I knew her, difficult situations, more dangerous. I went outside, walking to there,
here, that way, now if already she had gone, so by the side of the building, very dark shadows, as is known, also one street from here where were all military personnel, not in view for us but were
there, quietly, waiting, waiting, when was curfew, if colleagues forgot this, and if so important, these guests to our country, were they, if they may stray also down dark alleyways, if they too
may disappear, what then would happen, if colleagues did not protect these VIP guests to our country, what of foreign sources. I walked by the alleyway, along there, taking the cigarette from my
pocket. I had my matches, to strike one onto the wall, draw the tobacco smoke into my lungs, I had not smoked since afternoon, and closer by one rear entranceway, lighted by one lamp, little, and
again the smell of food, but then also came the hand onto my arm. It was her. I breathed, only. Passed the cigarette to her, I think so, that I did. What of her, lifting my arm, she did so, lifted
my arm, placing it round her shoulder, settling her head there, her hair against my face, smell of her skin beautiful skin I closed my eyes, drawing all into myself, breathing her into myself,
filling my lungs with it of her the smell of her hair and the smell of her flesh. Moments in life in history. What seconds may be. If in history, one of us dead. This is not dishonesty. These are
the thoughts and were the thoughts, which one, the one of us to live, for one would live yes beyond the other, are we not children, let us admit and not deny, one lives beyond the other. Thus what
of we two, if one what one, if it would be one. I tightened my grip on her, my fingers touching her upper arm, bare, to my fingertips, flesh of her upper arm, muscle of her upper arm.

I thought always that I knew her, in these few weeks, yes, always.

What I am to say. Is integrity, what integrity may be. We two. I cannot say more. It is known.

Now I could not stop it, how my mind thinking, my physical always, I could not stop it, never thinking and held her now more tightly, more. What I can say more, I cannot be ashamed. I would do
it, always in lust, I could not stop it to her. But she stopping me, touching my wrist. This would not happen it was dangerous for us, military all were closeby, yes, also but my lusting for her,
always to touch her, feel for her body, pressing her to myself, farther, within shadows now moving to rest against the wall of building and she allowed it, her arms around my neck, lifting her her
body was upwards sighing to me feeling for my penis and I could move quickly to inside her, being inside her, entering, so beautiful but stopping she stopped now, and her tension, Oh, he is there,
he is there. And when I looked she was from me, moving apart from me, now walking. She pointed. It was into the shadows, farther, in that direction from myself, past myself, away from herself, and
I stepped then, slower, along that alleyway. Nothing. Nothing was there, he was not there, none. No person. I looked there for one minute two minutes, longer. Nothing, nothing. I returned to the
street but she was not there. Inside the theatre. Neither there, not by the doors. Colleagues were by the hallway entrance, securing entries-exit, none had seen her. Perhaps she could be safe and
somewhere. They said so. What of the parking area, she might have gone to there. No. Perhaps I should wait for her, she would come soon. In ten minutes vehicles would be returned from the parking
area, she knew it, and later curfew would come, she knew it, schedule for the convoy, of course.

If I am to deny everything, we are human beings and have thoughts. She was not there, where was she.

What I may say, work is to be done I so do it. These are duties, we have acceded to them. The convoy was there, authoritys returning to their houses, foreign guests. Vehicles always must be in
line. One key is for each escort, if trouble arises. Vehicles always must be in line, ordered, these are basic matters. I now was driver of the vehicle. One colleague came for my companion,
escort-protector. Our passengers were to the houses, four miles from the theatre, we drove slowly, properly, arriving. An invitation was to all colleagues for one house for relaxation, food,
refreshment drinks. Colleagues were my friends and we spoke together. To return in search of my companion was not possible so to do, but next morning only, this was the first time. I knew it. Only
return to my section. She would return to hers, if so if not so, but what I might do, nothing. No, nothing, it could not be done, nothing. This then was possible. Nothing. Nothing. I could walk.
Where to walk. I may say. When tomorrow I might drive, driving southeast, I would so to streets of her childhood, narrow streets that were her familiar streets, and in that zone I would stop the
vehicle, leaving it. Morning. It was not cold, smelling also the sea, and walking far down hill, steeply and not some open areas but if where women may hang clothes, and far down to where she had
brought me days earlier, showing to me walks from childhood. I said to her, If the sea was there, might we walk to there, the sea is freedom, all gateways, yes, she brought me, saying Of course we
may go, securitys will not be there, if the sea is there, where can they go, they are not sailors, if they might flee the country. The estuary was there, closer, and one river also, that bridge
also, smaller bridge for walkers, that we might cross this bridge from centuries past, we were keeping to the side and within shadows. I would search to there, all places and thoroughfares, I would
search them, those to lead us to us, the morning is tomorrow.

What might be expected. Neither from myself. We are human beings.

We became intimate from the first evening when we met. I knew her from previously. I had known him also.

Her partner. I said it, she had her partner, he was her husband, a man held in regard yet with his own habits, known for humour if telling colleagues of matters, we would smile, jokes, stories.
She also smiled in speaking of him. Yes, colleague, good fellow. But two years now had passed. If he was dead. All thought that he was. I did not say this to her.

I thought nothing, what so, what I am to think. I would not look to her if he was there, he was not there, having been gone now two years, some thought dead, I thought dead. He was dead, I knew
it. I would not say this to her.

I remember that she dropped my hand, having held my hand then dropping it. I reached to her arm but if she tensed, her body rigid if against me and I brought my hand away now seeing her face,
yes, such anger there. I knew it in her.

But let me say firstly when we met together, weeks only had passed, I speak of one meeting for colleagues, she came to that, she and one other, also female. This was late night, discussion
matters, issues then raised for future practices, some critical, some defensive. Older colleagues respond to criticism, it is normal. I had had instruction. Others had made that decision. What
people may think. They can think it. Thoughts are in freedom. Younger colleagues have opinions. I thought of the future, what of our “campaigning formation”. I would raise matters for
discussion. There was a past also some colleagues did not consider, I considered it. But firstly tomorrow I would return in search of her, next morning.

14
“a pumpkin story”

The ticket was in my pocket, the goods also with me, these in the bag strapped on my shoulder. Not strapped down meaning by this I could lift the bag from myself easily. Soon I
would be gone from this place, good feeling. I saw from the office of the bus-terminal. Near to here were lines of vendors, some having barrows, boxes, selling vegetables and fruits, other produce,
meats, other articles, other people, yes, seeking, desiring, what, requesting, and of these, customers, travellers are customers. Military and security were among them, also inside the terminal
building. I came outside, looking for somewhere I might sit to wait, two hours more. I walked to the other side where were military installations, all personnel. And from there and round farther
was the bus and two mechanics working, the hood lifted to the engine. Inside a woman was cleaning on the low level and I might go upstairs. I looked for a destination but none yet was posted. I
asked this woman and she told me yes it was this one for myself. I stepped on board. She looked but said nothing. Thus I was the first, first traveller to board, this was why, the two men at the
engine having shown no interest, if not noticing myself, perhaps. I went onto the upper level, sitting halfway along with the window, all windows were open, it was not hot. I took the bag from my
shoulder, put it to my feet, knotted the lace of my shoe to the handle. The long wait to come but with my book this was a pleasure, long waiting was time to myself, I might read, sleep a little, if
it was possible, yes, I closed my eyes. If it might be peaceful, that was my wish, but what a wish, smaller town, border town.

Soon others were thinking such thoughts as myself, the bus becoming busier, new people searching for places. One hour more to leave. I saw now a second bus was behind this one. No sight of the
drivers. Beside me was sitting one man and his suitcase on his lap, resting his head there. His eyes were closed, not sleeping sleeping, I think not, resting his mind. Men worked far from home,
travelling to or from one place and another. In front of myself to the window was a woman, thirty-five years, I would say it, so supposing, she wore darker clothes, if religious clothes. I did not
see her features other than one moment as she seated herself. It was next to her the one had come, the younger fellow that I am to speak, placing down his belongings to safe security on that seat.
He spoke quietly to her and her answer only was by head movement, assent. He would say how none should sit down on that seat. And if his belongings should be stolen, she should see this did not
happen, none should steal his belongings. He thanked her then returned below, not looking to other travellers, if this was carelessly done. He appeared from the bus exit, stepping outside.

Vendors had come to our two buses from the other side of the terminal building, selling to travellers. It was very busy. On this bus also it was very busy, full seats, families split one and
another. Many people gathered on the street below, families, all relatives, leavetakings, farewells. Near to the barrows with fruit and vegetable produce two vendors of water, people queued for
them, water for the journey. The younger fellow also was there, not with the water queue but standing with elderly people, older man and woman. They were not drinking that water. The vendor was
near to them. I do not know that these people had bought the water at an earlier time. All people are thirsty. Yes. Not all people queue for that water. People are bitter. If this water here sold
was not liked. Where that water had come from, of these vendors. I do not know which water was sold to people, it is I am supposing. People perhaps are too much bitter, some might say, not say.
These mountains beyond, they also have water. Only days since I had come from there. Water is in the mountains. The elderly couple and younger fellow might have come from there. I do not know.

Water is in the mountains, obtained in the mountains, obtained not obtained, perhaps it so may not be obtained, perhaps sealed off from people.

It is factual information. Pipes are from continent to continent, vendor to vendor, water is sealed off from people, going to vendors.

Vendors may be local people, also foreign. Water and oil, these are international. Rivers may be pipes. I have heard them so called. It is not sarcastic. Rivers can be pipes. Sealed not sealed,
some may be. Oil also is sealed. People do not say oil-river, rivers are of water, water gives life but of a water-river people may say of it it is a pipe. I have heard it said. If water is sealed
off from people what is it, it is a pipe. The river is one issue of water, more, issuing not from the sea but from the mountains into the sea. Rivers are in the mountains but where is the water.
Foreign lands have rivers, all have pipes, pipes are crossing borders, international.

People say this, I have heard them. They are bitter. Their home is there and their water is not. There is no river, not of water, not of life.

What I am to say. Water is controlled, life is controlled, people have the water, governments have the water, people possess the water, governments possess the water, possessing the lives, the
lives of people, day-to-day life.

What experience, experiencing

I am asked to say this fact or this fact, this other fact. What is expected. I do not know. It is known why I was there. I speak of these people as I was inside on the bus. I was reading one
book. I had some, I had six, seven. I had with me seven books. These were the books to be stolen, later, my bag taken. The books were different books. Books may be different, those of mine were
different. Also two new ones I came upon. What books, I cannot remember.

It was in that same town, near to the border and beyond there. Yes, others. Of course dangerous.

I had different books. Theoretical works. Also old books. It is not sarcasm, old books.

New books old books, theoretical works, computing. Languages of computing. Other languages. Languages that may be possible. We can say models, adopting innovatory techniques, amalgam of logic,
linguistical, in algorithms, not so modern.

Not so modern. If old ways are not discarded. If medieval times are considered, if we move beyond then, we can move beyond then, medieval times, if it is allowed, progress, yes, progress not
progress.

BOOK: Translated Accounts
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