До Адама

           Wecouldtwitchourears,prickthemupandflattenthemdownatwill.Andwecouldscratchbetweenourshoulderswithease.Wecouldthrowstoneswithourfeet.Ihavedoneitmanyatime.Andforthatmatter,Icouldkeepmykneesstraight,bendforwardfromthehips,andtouch,notthetipsofmyfingers,butthepointsofmyelbows,totheground.Andasforbird-nesting—well,Ionlywishthetwentieth-centuryboycouldseeus.Butwemadenocollectionsofeggs.Weatethem.

           Iremember—butIout-runmystory.FirstletmetellofLop-Earandourfriendship.Veryearlyinmylife,Iseparatedfrommymother.Possiblythiswasbecause,afterthedeathofmyfather,shetooktoherselfasecondhusband.Ihavefewrecollectionsofhim,andtheyarenotofthebest.Hewasalightfellow.Therewasnosoliditytohim.Hewastoovoluble.HisinfernalchatteringworriesmeevennowasIthinkofit.Hismindwastooinconsequentialtopermithimtopossesspurpose.Monkeysintheircagesalwaysremindmeofhim.Hewasmonkeyish.ThatisthebestdescriptionIcangiveofhim.

           Hehatedmefromthefirst.AndIquicklylearnedtobeafraidofhimandhismaliciouspranks.WheneverhecameinsightIcreptclosetomymotherandclungtoher.ButIwasgrowingolderallthetime,anditwasinevitablethatIshouldfromtimetotimestrayfromher,andstrayfartherandfarther.AndtheseweretheopportunitiesthattheChattererwaitedfor.(Imayaswellexplainthatweborenonamesinthosedays;werenotknownbyanyname.