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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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And
the
real
saints
are
people
like
Moore
and
Sutherland
who
fight
to
be
English
artists
in
England
.
Like
Constable
and
Palmer
and
Blake
.
Another
thing
I
said
to
Caliban
the
other
day
—
we
were
listening
to
jazz
—
I
said
,
don
’
t
you
dig
this
?
And
he
said
,
in
the
garden
.
I
said
he
was
so
square
he
was
hardly
credible
.
Oh
,
that
,
he
said
.
Like
rain
,
endless
dreary
rain
.
Colour
-
killing
.
I
’
ve
forgotten
to
write
down
the
bad
dream
I
had
last
night
.
I
always
seem
to
get
them
at
dawn
,
it
’
s
something
to
do
with
the
stuffiness
of
this
room
after
I
’
ve
been
locked
in
it
for
a
night
.
(
The
relief
—
when
he
comes
and
the
door
is
open
,
and
the
fan
on
.
I
’
ve
asked
him
to
let
me
go
straight
out
and
breathe
the
cellar
air
,
but
he
always
makes
me
wait
till
I
’
ve
had
breakfast
.
As
I
think
he
might
not
let
me
have
my
half
-
hour
in
midmorning
if
he
let
me
go
out
earlier
,
I
don
’
t
insist
.
)
The
dream
was
this
.
I
’
d
done
a
painting
.
I
can
’
t
really
re
-
member
what
it
was
like
but
I
was
very
pleased
with
it
.
It
was
at
home
.
I
went
out
and
while
I
was
out
I
knew
something
was
wrong
.
I
had
to
get
home
.
When
I
rushed
up
to
my
room
M
was
there
sitting
at
the
pembroke
table
(
Minny
was
standing
by
the
wall
—
looking
frightened
,
I
think
G
.
P
.
was
there
,
too
,
and
other
people
,
for
some
peculiar
reason
)
and
the
picture
was
in
shreds
—
great
long
strips
of
canvas
.
And
M
was
stabbing
at
the
table
top
with
her
secateurs
and
I
could
see
she
was
white
with
rage
.
And
I
felt
the
same
.
The
most
wild
rage
and
hatred
.
I
woke
up
then
.
I
have
never
felt
such
rage
for
M
—
even
that
day
when
she
was
drunk
and
hit
me
in
front
of
that
hateful
boy
Peter
Catesby
.
I
can
remember
standing
there
with
her
slap
on
my
cheek
and
feeling
ashamed
,
outraged
,
shocked
,
everything
.
.
.
but
sorry
for
her
.
I
went
and
sat
by
her
bed
and
held
her
hand
and
let
her
cry
and
forgave
her
and
defended
her
with
Daddy
and
Minny
.
But
this
dream
seemed
so
real
,
so
terribly
natural
.
I
’
ve
accepted
that
she
tried
to
stop
me
from
becoming
an
artist
.
Parents
always
misunderstand
their
children
(
no
,
I
won
’
t
misunderstand
mine
)
,
I
knew
I
was
supposed
to
be
the
son
and
surgeon
poor
D
never
was
able
to
be
.
Carmen
will
be
that
now
.
I
mean
I
have
forgiven
them
their
fighting
against
my
ambition
for
their
ambitions
.
I
won
,
so
I
must
forgive
.
But
that
hatred
in
that
dream
.
It
was
so
real
.
I
don
’
t
know
how
to
exorcise
it
.
I
could
tell
it
to
G
.
P
.
But
there
’
s
only
the
slithery
scratch
of
my
pencil
on
this
pad
.
