July 02, 2004

Sending Children Down Your Spine

Marlon Brando died yesterday. Francis Ford Coppola was quoted as saying that Brando "would hate the idea of people chiming in to give their comments about his death," so I won't.

As I was coming out of my flat earlier this afternoon, the five-and-a-half-year-old who lives upstairs went running past. While I stood, locking my door, he shot down a couple of stairs, stopped, turned, and ran back up to where I was and tapped me on the arm. He then said:

"I can whistle, you know, and I'm only five and a half!"

The overwhelming cuteness and non-sequitiritude of which so stunned me, all I was able to utter in reply was: "Uh... Good for you."

On the other hand, while I was making myself breakfast the other morning, another little boy (could have been the same one, for all I know) was playing out in the communal garden, and suddenly started shouting, "Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you," at the top of his lungs. It was quite extraordinary how many times he managed to squeeze the word fuck into a minute. Almost as extraordinary as the fact that the only person who seemed to be trying to subdue him was one of the girls he was playing with.

So basically, what I'm trying to say is... Uh... Good for you.

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