poliphilo

Odi lives in an interesting district of Liverpool- once prosperous (lots of lovely Victorian houses, a huge public park), now liminal; a place where it's normal to be an outsider. There are sea breezes- and they keep everything fresh- but we wished we hadn't been persuaded by a week of sunshine to leave our winter clothes behind. We bought fruit and veg in a shed where 15 tangerines could be had for 50p. I'm guessing the proprietors were Turks. The tangerines were very dry but Christa loved them. Fabi panicked every time he saw a dog. He has no way of knowing this but a schoolgirl was savaged by a fighting dog a few hundred yards from his front door only the other week. Its owners stepped round the corner, leashed it and departed without a word. Another young girl died in a corner of the local park and there were floral tributes and photos fixed to a tree. Odi says it was murder.

Odi and Peter have met on neutral ground. He is teary and contrite but she continues to keep him at arm's length. There are other people around her. One of them- a dewy-eyed Iranian lad- asked if he could meet her "parents" and she said "no". I'd have liked to have met him out of sheer busy-bodyness, but it's probably best- in the larger scheme of things- that she keeps her friends in separate compartments.