We got off the bus at Parramatta Markets and I said to my companion I was going to look at the second hand books
It was a place I had been to before, both in dreams and in real life
Some querulous young man was engaging the door woman with his trivial complaints
When it was my turn I gave her the 100 yen coin it cost to enter and then found the door was still obstructed
A giant and his tiny girlfriend, sitting on a bench, offered to get me in
The giant took me in his arms, raising me up above his head, and torpedo-ed me over all of the obstacles and into the shop
I banged my head on the lintel on the way through but it didn’t hurt and didn’t bleed so I didn’t mind
Did I say my younger son was with me? He was now
First I looked at the books on the semi-circular display shelves
Burroughs, Ancient Egypt, The Art of Tea — there wasn’t anything I wanted
We went down to the side room where the medieval texts are held
Shelves stuffed with parchments that had lost their bindings; leather-backed volumes you would not dare to open in case they cracked
All in Old or Middle English which I cannot read anymore
Two spivs in suits were surveying the offerings in search of investment opportunities
One of them, younger, red-headed, tipped a shelf forward as if to topple it down over on to him
You’re really stupid, you know that? I said
He shaped up as if to take me on but I knew I had his measure
He slunk off after the other guy
There were three people in the next room: a father, a mother and their grown-up daughter, who was about 40 and beautiful; Russians
Was it about force or was it about righteousness? they asked
They were talking about Raskolnikov
I did not know the answer and nor did they; but we all knew what the question was
They found a copy of Crime & Punishment and the daughter slid it into the embroidered shoulder bag she was carrying
We bowed and parted
In the next room I discovered a book about the Tartars, illustrated with gorgeous paintings accompanied by an unreadable calligraphy
Half Turkic half Chinese
I showed it to my son who turned it over and looked at the back
Eight dollars he said; a bargain
He’s good with money but was looking bored; you’re bored, aren’t you, I said
He was too polite to agree but I knew it was so
OK let’s go I said
We were going to take a boat down the river to Marrickville so went to wait at the landing; it was a grassy slope above the water
Some hairy rotund old baldachin-clad fellow came up to my son and asked for his help in crossing the river
He said he would; but that he couldn’t carry everything; so would I take the rest?
Of course I would
They set off swimming across the broad reach of the brown river
I took the bridge
But the bridge didn’t go all the way over and I was soon wading through deep water and then swimming myself with packages held above my head
To no avail: the newspapers and the other items floated away
When I returned to the other bank and was re-united with my son he said: yeah the old guy got across but he lost his sofa as well
Just then his older brother turned up, with his elegant luggage neatly packed but looking worried
Yeah yeah fine he said (he always says that) I just came to help you get home
Before we embarked on the river journey my beloved came back
She said: I sold all of my 142 baby geese
I saw that she was grieving; I was too; I remembered their white breasts and their emerald green wings
Their black beady eyes
I didn’t get enough for them either, she said; but I sold them to a friend; so she’ll look after them
I don’t know what happened to the Tartar book but it will still be there next time I visit that place
Wherever it is
I hope
Isinglass 