He had lived within the narrow grooves of habit so long that he had learned to see in his dark world without the aid of eyes I let my brother borrow my copy of this book shortly after he’d been made homeless and had washed up in our kitchen on a camp-bed. This was short-sighted for two reasons: firstly, his track record of borrowing my books is very poor – my copy of The Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart has never resurfaced, and I had to confiscate The Sellout after finding it covered in tea and tobacco on a damp surface – and secondly, it seemed to trigger something in him which sent him off to find strong, cheap dark ale at Lidl and saw him sleep through more hours (and general kitchen noise) than he probably should have been able so to do. Not that it takes much for him to consider alcohol the principal solution. When I asked him about it, he said it was just like his life, only substitute the sewer for Bridgend and being tortured into confessing a double homicide for getting drunk an
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