I have noticed this tendency to reductionism in X before. The text is infinitely variegated, the subtext always the same.
spend the afternoons swimming in the limpid water
a terrible trial for poor Angus, who felt he’d done nothing to deserve it. He stalked off the yacht at the earliest possible opportunity, injured innocence writ large on his brow.
a bevy (it really is the only word for it, echt B-movie stuff) of beautiful girls surrounded me
“Let him come,” I said to my friend. “If we refuse to speak of him, we give him the power of our childhood phantasms. The enemy has revealed himself. Now we can fight.”
“You are a white girl in the park on acid,” he said. “On the border, they are building camps.”
I put my foot out sharply and…
