Dans le panier

J'étais à De Boomerang, au rayon livres anglais. J'ai aperçu son nom en grosses lettres TONI MORRISON et en lettres encore plus grosses juste au dessus JAZZ.
1.00 euro.
Au moins, dans ma vie, il y a des moments où je n'hésite pas.
Où je n'ai pas besoin de regarder la liste des ingrédients, de me demander si tout ce qui est écrit est vrai, si on peut avoir confiance, si je peux en donner à ma fille.
Jazz, T.Morrison. Rien de mieux à mettre dans le panier.

Now, down Fifth Avenue from curb to curb, came a tide of cold black faces, speechless and unblinking because what they meant to say but did not trust themselves to say the drums said for them, and what they had seen with their own eyes and through the eyes of others the drums described to a T. The hurt hurt her, but the fear was gone at last. Fifth Avenue was put into focus now and so was her protection of the newly orphaned girl in her charge.
From then on she hid the girl's hair in braids tucked under, lest whitemen see it raining round her shoulders and push dollar-wrapped fingers toward her. She instructed her about deafness and blindness---how valuable and necessary they were in the company of whitewomen who spoke English and those who did not, as well as in the presence of their children. Taught her how to crawl along the walls of buildings, disappear into doorways, cut across corners in choked traffic ---how to do anything, move anywhere to avoid a whiteboy over the age of eleven. Much of this she could effect with her dress, but as the girl grew older, more elaborate specifications had to be put in place. High-heeled shoes with the graceful straps across the arch, the vampy hats closed on the head with saucy brims framing the face, makeup of any kind---all that was outlawed in Alice Manfred's house. Especially the coats slung low in the back and not buttoned, but clutched, like a bathrobe or a towel around the body, forcing the women who wore them to look like they had just stepped out of the bathtub and were already ready for bed. Jazz, T. Morrison