Page 187 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

Daisy was tired, and her whole body hurt, but she felt excited.
The one who had called her was the boy from Mosquito Village. He was
standing outside the kitchen, his face pressed against the window. Daisy walked
over and opened the door.
“Look!” He pointed at the sky.
That kind of bird was filling the sky. Two were flying low, sweeping past in
front of him, their feathers brushing his face. He burst out with “Aiya!”
“Does it hurt?” Daisy asked him.

“Sure it does. Their bodies are copper, their wings iron.”
“So strange. But only yesterday, they were still snowflakes. I captured one of
them . . .”
“You’re lying!” He said sternly, “How could you capture them? Impossible!
This kind of bird comes out only on snowy days. No one can capture them.”
Daisy noticed that he was standing barefoot in the snow, and she couldn’t
help but admire him. She motioned him into the kitchen to warm himself by the
fire. He thought it over carefully before saying, “Okay.”
They went into the kitchen. Daisy had just closed the door when they heard
the birds bumping into the door, making da, da, da sounds. The door started to
shake.
“See. I told you they had copper bodies and iron wings.”
Daisy lit the firewood in the stove. She saw the boy’s face gradually grow

thinner in the firelight. Her heart thumped. She struggled hard, and said in a
small mosquito-like voice, “You’re a lot like my brother. Tell me about
Mosquito Village.”
“I can’t speak of Mosquito Village things to outsiders.”
Daisy sighed. She turned the flame up. She looked again: a black butterfly as
large as a bat was resting in midair—that was where his face should be. And his
hands were scratching at the ground, making a heap of earth scraps.
“What are you doing?” she asked him in amazement. Inwardly, she was
scared.
“The thing you ran into in the cemetery—it’s my friend! Now do you get it?”
He shrieked, “Look at how sharp my claws are—That comes with practice!”
“Ah! Ah!” Daisy sighed lightly.
“That place belongs to us. It’s always like that on snowy days. You saw that.
I squat with it in the cemetery. You don’t appreciate the place, so why on earth
did you go there?” He made a gnawing sound with his teeth.
The fire had not gone out yet when he left. Daisy supposed he was loath to

spend time with her. She stuck her head out the door and saw the silvery white
sky. All was quiet in the world. Not even the willow branches murmured. They
were drooping in silence.