BRUNO SCHULZ
69
step with the heal. The square patch of sunlight on the floor glared.
Shin) , metallic flies flashed like lightning in the entrance
to
the shop,
settling for a moment on the sides of the door, g lass bubbles blown
flOlll the hot pipe of the sun, from the g lassworks of that radiant day:
the)' sat with wings outspread, full of flight and swiftness, then
changed places in furious zigzags. Through th e bright quadrilateral of
the doorway one cou ld see the Iime trees of the city park fa inting in the
sun li ght, the distant bell tower of the church outl ined clearly in the
translucent and shimmering a ir, as if in the lenses of binoculars. The
tinpl a ted roofs were burning, the enormous, golden globe of hea t was
swelling all over the world.
Fa ther 's irritation grew. H e looked round helplessly, doubl ed up
with pain , exhausted by diarrhea. H e felt in his mouth a taste more
biller than wormwood.
The heat intensified, sharpening the fury of the fli es, making the
metal on their abdomens shine. The quadril a teral of light now reached
Father's desk and the papers burned like the Apocalypse. Father's eyes,
blinded by the sun li ght, cou ld not stand their white uniformity.
Through his thick glasses he saw everything he looked at in crimson,
greenish, or purpl e frames and was fill ed with despa ir at this exp losion
of co lor, the anarchy raging over the world in an orgy of brightness.
His hands shook. His palate was bitter and dry, heralding an attack of
sickncss. His eyes embedded in the furrows of wrinkl es watched with
attention the development of events in the depth of the shop.
II
When at noon my father, exhausted by the heat, trembling with
futil e excitement and a lmost on the verge of madness, retrea ted upstairs
and the ce ilin gs of the floor above cracked here and there under his
sku lkin g step, the shop experi enced a momentary pause and
relaxation-the hour of the afternoon siesta.
The shop assistants turned somersau lts on the bales of cloth ,
pitched up tents of fabric on the shelves, made swings from draperies.
They unwound the cloth, set free the smooth, tightly rolled ancient
darkness. The shopworn, felted dusk, now liberated, fill ed the spaces
under the cei ling with the smell of another time, with the odor of past
days, patiently arranged in innumerable layers during the coo l falls of
long ago. Blind moths scattered in the darkened air, fluffs of feathers
and woo l circled with them a ll over the shop, and the smell of
