the space between the idea of it and its reality had become filled with hatred,and so when at last I saw it I wanted to take it into my hands and tear it into little pieces and then crumble it up as if it were clay,child's clay.That was impossible,and so I could only indulge in not-favorable opinions. 12 There were monuments everywhere;they commemorated victories,battles fought between them and the people who lived across the sea from them,all vile people,fought over which of them would have dominion over the people who looked like me.The monuments were useless to them now,people sat on them and ate their lunch.They were like markers on an old useless trail,like a piece of old string tied to a finger to jog the memory,like old decoration in an old house,dirty,useless,in the way.Their skins were so pale,it made them look so fragile,so weak,so ugly.What if I had the power to simply banish them from their land,send boat after boatload of them on a voyage that in fact had no destination,force them to live in a place where the sun's presence was a constant?This would rid them of their pale complexion and make them look more like me,make them look more like the people I love and treasure and hold dear,and more like the people who occupy the near and far reaches of my imagination,my history,my geography,and reduce them and everything they have ever known to figurines as evidence that I was in divine favor,what if all this was in my power? Could I resist it?No one ever has. 13 And they were rude,they were rude to each other.They didn't like each other very much. They didn't like each other in the way they didn't like me,and it occurred to me that their dislike for me was one of the few things they agreed on. 14 I was on a train in England with a friend,an English woman.Before we were in England she liked me very much.In England she didn't like me at all.She didn't like the claim I said I had on England,she didn't like the views 1 had of England.I didn't like England,she didn't like England,but she didn't like me not liking it too.She said,"I want to show you my England,I want to show you the England that I know and love."I had told her many times before that I knew England and I didn't want to love it anyway.She no longer lived in England;it was her own country,but it had not been kind to her,so she left.On the train,the conductor was rude to her;she asked something,and he responded in a rude way.She became ashamed.She was ashamed at the way he treated her;she was ashamed at the way he behaved."This is the new England,"she said.But I liked the conductor being rude;his behavior seemed quite appropriate.Earlier this had happened:we had gone to a store to buy a shirt for my husband;it was meant to be a special present,a special shirt to wear on special occasions.This was a store where the Prince of Wales has his shirts made,but the shirts sold in this store are beautiful all the same.I found a shirt I thought my husband would like and I wanted to buy him a tie to go with it.When I couldn't decide which one to choose,the salesman showed me a new set.He was very pleased with these,he said,because they bore the crest of the Prince of Wales,and the Prince of Wales had never allowed his crest to decorate an article of clothing before.There was something in the way he said it;his tone was slavish,reverential,awed.It made me feel angry;I wanted to hit him.I didn't do that.I said,the space between the idea of it and its reality had become filled with hatred, and so when at last I saw it I wanted to take it into my hands and tear it into little pieces and then crumble it up as if it were clay, child’s clay. That was impossible, and so I could only indulge in not-favorable opinions. 12 There were monuments everywhere; they commemorated victories, battles fought between them and the people who lived across the sea from them, all vile people, fought over which of them would have dominion over the people who looked like me. The monuments were useless to them now, people sat on them and ate their lunch. They were like markers on an old useless trail, like a piece of old string tied to a finger to jog the memory, like old decoration in an old house, dirty, useless, in the way. Their skins were so pale, it made them look so fragile, so weak, so ugly. What if I had the power to simply banish them from their land, send boat after boatload of them on a voyage that in fact had no destination, force them to live in a place where the sun’s presence was a constant? This would rid them of their pale complexion and make them look more like me, make them look more like the people I love and treasure and hold dear, and more like the people who occupy the near and far reaches of my imagination, my history, my geography, and reduce them and everything they have ever known to figurines as evidence that I was in divine favor, what if all this was in my power? Could I resist it? No one ever has. 13 And they were rude, they were rude to each other. They didn’t like each other very much. They didn’t like each other in the way they didn’t like me, and it occurred to me that their dislike for me was one of the few things they agreed on. 14 I was on a train in England with a friend, an English woman. Before we were in England she liked me very much. In England she didn’t like me at all. She didn’t like the claim I said I had on England, she didn’t like the views 1 had of England. I didn’t like England, she didn’t like England, but she didn’t like me not liking it too. She said, “I want to show you my England, I want to show you the England that I know and love.” I had told her many times before that I knew England and I didn’t want to love it anyway. She no longer lived in England; it was her own country, but it had not been kind to her, so she left. On the train, the conductor was rude to her; she asked something, and he responded in a rude way. She became ashamed. She was ashamed at the way he treated her; she was ashamed at the way he behaved. “This is the new England,” she said. But I liked the conductor being rude; his behavior seemed quite appropriate. Earlier this had happened: we had gone to a store to buy a shirt for my husband; it was meant to be a special present, a special shirt to wear on special occasions. This was a store where the Prince of Wales has his shirts made, but the shirts sold in this store are beautiful all the same. I found a shirt I thought my husband would like and I wanted to buy him a tie to go with it. When I couldn’t decide which one to choose, the salesman showed me a new set. He was very pleased with these, he said, because they bore the crest of the Prince of Wales, and the Prince of Wales had never allowed his crest to decorate an article of clothing before. There was something in the way he said it; his tone was slavish, reverential, awed. It made me feel angry; I wanted to hit him. I didn’t do that. I said