The Dead House (excerpt)
We locked the big pieces of furniture in the lower
floor, same with the heavy carpets and the velvet or
silk curtains, tablecloths, embroidered little napkins,
crystals, dinnerware, and big silver trays which once
reflected the huge face of hospitality, blankets and
silk beddings, whites, woollen clothes, purses, the
overcoats and the dead’s too, all mixed up: gloves,
laces and ostrich feathers from mother’s hats, the piano,
guitars, flutes, drums, and wooden horses and dolls
from our childhood years, our father’s official uniforms
and the first long pants of our brother, or the ivory
case with the blonde locks of our little brother, the
gold-plated knife, horse riding uniforms, back-sacks
and heavy capes, all together without mothballs,
or lavender twigs in tulle bags.
Manolis Aligizakis 