An­daman Morn­ing

The London Magazine - - ARTHUR SOLWAY -

for Michel Houelle­becq

The café um­brel­las bloom early un­der a harsh trop­i­cal sun. I or­der yel­low curry and a cold beer for break­fast. It’s al­most noon. It isn’t easy to say cer­tain things: The clouds are like shrap­nel or with so lit­tle ef­fort they blow them­selves apart, charted by a cer­tain slow­ness to de­clare their sov­er­eign king­doms. The king has died. The tourists keep com­ing. Chil­dren re­turn to their sand­cas­tles as small flags along the shore­line point us in an­other di­rec­tion.

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