MATEO
"By the time I am your age, I will have a great big beard with plants growing in it. Like Vi." Mateo nods wisely, stroking said imaginary beard. "You will just be a big old lion by then, Dad. Will you go grey?" he wonders, pressing his hands to his own dark curls as if wondering if that lays in his future as well.
He's (perhaps luckily) distracted by the talk of the houseboat and the painting of it, and the model of it, and Mateo slowly looks up at his father as if he has no idea what he's talking about all of a sudden. "...Well, yes," he says. "But I was going to paint una pittura of the boat. On some parchment. That won't take as long, will it?" Or will it? Suddenly the boy is seized by doubt, staring down at his hands as if wondering where he ought to start.
"We were all babies a few months ago, Dad," Mateo says wisely, though of course the boy's definition of a few is probably wildly out. "I can ask him? He just looked like... a boy. Like me."
He's (perhaps luckily) distracted by the talk of the houseboat and the painting of it, and the model of it, and Mateo slowly looks up at his father as if he has no idea what he's talking about all of a sudden. "...Well, yes," he says. "But I was going to paint una pittura of the boat. On some parchment. That won't take as long, will it?" Or will it? Suddenly the boy is seized by doubt, staring down at his hands as if wondering where he ought to start.
"We were all babies a few months ago, Dad," Mateo says wisely, though of course the boy's definition of a few is probably wildly out. "I can ask him? He just looked like... a boy. Like me."
the earth has music for those who listen
