“It is the elemental space—a kind of lateral staircase that neither ascends nor descends, that neither enters nor penetrates. It is an oracular ray of light; it is a video call from Portugal, a hard drive that is all too hard, and hours of light rain. It is the two of them, traveling simultaneously, mending the cables that were corroded not by time, but by their chilling gazes. It is the perfect space; it is the right moment; it is the desired shade of white. A machine of orange revolutions and flawed conceptions. There are threads with sports themes, threads about cheap wines, about sweet liqueurs disguised as beers. There are comments regarding their genetics, their sense of humor, and their descendants. There are comments about their public displays of affection, and about other guests. Yet no one speaks of the steps—of what is lacking or what is superfluous—nor of the Americans or the Canadians; no one speaks of skin color; no one speaks of the painted costumes.“ • • • 🐅 bbbfinear...