Bargain Basement

Two comics—graphic novels; young Malay hipster and one dowdy Chin HDB lumpy lad following each frame of INHUMANITY with a close myopic concentration and also a frown. Three screens. Three newspapers brought from home that happen to represent the chief ethnic groups—Chin, ML & Indian. (Two different English periodicals; bearing in mind the one single company in this republic owns and produces all, the whole box and dice of media—print, radio, television and what have you.) Correction: four graphic novels, two in book form—upper teen girls the latter, one needing to cover irregular teeth in soundless laughter. Earlier old Chin uncle reading columns of Mandarin A6 book form before a short doze. Far fella on the end of the couches difficult to judge either race or reading matter, Peranakan possibly. Larger conventional book form perhaps, an impression that is bolstered by the Timberland walking shoes and cargo pants. Fattie lass prematurely aged beside Inhumanity  had only been glancing at her book: plugs, screen and drowsiness quickly overcoming. The one true, indubitable book belongs to a younger mid-aged woman draping a woolen shawl over her shoulders; bare legs. Beside her Hire….something Head hardback might not be hers. In hand mystery-suspense best guess by the colours and artwork; after a half hour put aside for the screen. Dreadful tame institutional artwork on the walls will pass without mention. Silence encouraged in graphics of two forms, one strip and the other voluptuous lips crossed with forefinger. Late afternoon on a Monday seats as usual difficult to find. Through Soviet times in Eastern Europe libraries were a refuge from the cold; in this republic on the equator the other. (Hire With Your Head discovered on departure; lady may have felt it an intrusion and thoughts of further enquiry dropped.) The author’s taste ran to Guy Debord’s Society of the Spectacle, purchased a couple of weeks ago as the copy on the French shelves in the Basement had gone missing a number of days. Slow going reading the old, enticing and brilliant Marxist/ Situationist with a pencil, chewing phrase by phrase. (A process of thick reading that has long effected one’s own form and output.)