āæ This article was featured in Issue #5 of the Atlantic Bulletin
Another paint-sketch ā a painting done fast. Iām trying to learn to a) paint and b) paint on an industrial scale.
Sheād missed the fast tram, caught a tiny splinter in her thumb, lost a button and now the match wouldnāt strike. It just wasnāt her day.
They were in Callaisn (pronounced ka-lane), a borough of the capital Tzipora regarded as āthe worst of themā for its tall buildings and labyrinthian concrete alleys. āBad people, bad food, bad smellsā she said, flashing the tact she was known for. āLetās go home.ā
Callaisn was an oddity, built largely by the British during the occupation years in the fashion of London. It was nonetheless a thoroughly Vekllei borough, with its parks and tramways and rivulets, but it had a continental skyline marked by tower blocks and skyscrapers. A lot of boring business was done in Callaisn that Tzipora didnāt care about.
Cobian frowned as Tzipora rotated a second match between her thumb and finger. She didnāt like this nasty little habit sheād picked up. āYouāll smell like your dad if you keep this up,ā she said.
āSuits me,ā said Tzipora.