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228 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1949
…with them was a thin, white-skinned, bald-headed little man who projected before him a perfectly round little melon belly that looked as if it might at any moment rip from its own weight through the tender membrane of abdominal skin that supported it. This was the belly of Senhor da Cunha… he was excessively bent, even for an old man, and a slight muscular distortion on one side of his face had twisted it into a perpetual leer. He was bothered by a watering of the eyes, and he blinked unceasingly in a losing race with this affliction. Every few moments a tear would slip out anyway. He would mop it away quickly with his handkerchief, but before long another tear would well out between blinks, so that he would repeat the gesture. It was difficult not to watch him, the way it is difficult not to listen to the ticking of two clocks or any other unmatched rhythms as they approach synchronization and then fall out of it again…