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2007-03-13 - 7:49 p.m. Today, yesterdayI was woken up by Radio 4 yesterday morning. They were discussing this. An hour or so later, I'd written and sent off my entry: Tattooed Mountain Women and Spoon Boxes of Daghestan
Zlata the tattooist sat back and regarded her work. Her talent was deserting her. The others might not have noticed but as the years softened her vision and her touch, Zlata knew that, almost imperceptibly, the quality of her work was deteriorating. She sighed and turned to the window. Overlaid on the familiar view of the scree-streaked Caucasus foothills was the reflection of the girl. She was trying to look at her own shoulder, her mother and aunt fussing around her.
Galina, the aunt, fetched a scarred full-length mirror from the corner of the room and propped it against a table. Irina regarded the angry red oval at the top of her arm and the scratchy design within that read: �I love spoons�.
�Now?� said Irina �Now I may know the Great Secret?�
Zlata turned back from the window to meet the gaze of Irina�s mother. Zlata nodded and slowly stood. Polina, the mother, took Zlata�s chair, carried it to the wardrobe and climbed on it. She reached to the top of the wardrobe and brought down a blue box just small enough to be held in one hand. She brushed dust off the lid with her fingertips and placed the box in Irina�s lap.
The pain in Irina�s arm was forgotten. She unclasped the lid and opened the box, revealing a lighter blue silk bedding, in the centre of which was a distinct spoon-shaped gap.
Irina gasped. She slowly ran a middle finger around the bed where the spoon should be and looked up at the women. �But�the spoon�?�
�All twelve boxes are the same.� Whispered Zlata. �This is the Great Secret. The Spoons of Kumyzyurt�are lost!� How am I driving? 0 pennyworths so far Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude |