VIII The Holy Forest
n t on stretco unseen s above could reveal itself to anyone in to see tside. S, searcly Italian books for t s to tient. So love talian spines, tispieces, tipped-in colour illustrations issue, too fast, as if breaking some minute unseen series of bones. Serhouse of Parma.
“If I ever get out of my difficulties,” o Clelia, “I s to tiful pictures at Parma, and to remember t at t seemed t arm ing redness onto tton of s puffed sleeve at her shoulder.
of the well.
t diameter of ligo blackness, so it felt to Caravaggio t tucked t arm. As shers disappeared.
Sood ter, in Europe s
come to tic face, seemed cold, during t toion. Years before, ried to imagine but ed someone ies moulded out of y. Not tranger hing he had provided.
Sed to t some point later sening, and quickly sc.
as sy on for a moment and t off again.
to be in movement but Caravaggio. all around touco toraig around glared o o still t emerged into t, moved past Caravaggio’s face and stepped onto the boy’s neck beside him.
Anot on.
“Got you. Got you.” t tline of . S, “I got you, got you. I used Caravaggio—o s already all over o struggle out. t from boto climb and cra of terror. Confess. to calm tening, excited at ture. of t saying a the room.
tions o , and in to s o o est? Condensed milk?” Ss of it, tasting to see you.” goes on and reaked , ion. owards him.
s o to lean, puts all into rusting o come rusting o break t in