 |
| Level 5 | Level 6 | |||
| Level 8 | Level 9 | Level 10 | Level 11 | Level 12 |
| Home |
The Apprentice
by
Pilar Molina Llorente
(trans. Robin Longshaw)
My house was a small and pleasant one. It had a courtyard with a bronze fountain
in the shape of a fish’s head and a tall gallery, full of light and
flowers. What I liked best about it, though, was the large window in the gallery
that opened onto the square and the bustling outdoor market. I sat at that
window nearly every morning, before I went to work in my father’s tailor
shop, and tried to draw the postures and gestures of the vendors in their
stalls and the expressions of their customers. Again and again I realized
that no one has the same nose as anyone else and that each person has a different
way of walking.
One morning, I stayed later than usual at the gallery window.
My father’s voice brought me back from my world of lines and shadings
and dropped me roughly into the reality of the workday.
“Arduino, are you going to spend the whole morning at the window? There’s
work to be done.” He was standing at the gallery door.
I put down my paper and pencil and followed him toward the tailor’s
shop, which was part of our house. There, day after day, my grandfather, my
father, my brothers, and I put in the thousands of stitches that together
formed each piece and then the finished garments. The clicking of the needles
against the thimbles counted the seconds.
| Home |