thought of my mother. Was she crazy? Is that why she did it? Why she strapped me into the passenger seat of her yellow Mini and sped us toward that redbrick wall? I always liked that car, its cheerful canary yellow. The same yellow as in my paint box. Now I hate that color—every time I use it, I think of death.
SHe jut finished compring nice things (market/ canal vs crazy hobo; sweet little bird vs dead wrottijng with maggots) and they are referencjng this.
