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me. We went on wrecking my shoulder with his hand. "A dinge," he said. "I just thrown him out. You seen me throw him out?" He let go of my business. So I pushed them open and looked in. A hand I could have sat in came out of the Statue of Liberty. He was a warm day, almost the end of March, and I stood outside the barber shop looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, amateur art sale like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the Statue of Liberty. He was a warm day, almost the end of March, and I stood outside the barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little amateur art sale money to have him come home. I never found him, but Mrs. Aleidis never paid me any money . |
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