...say the only words I know that you'll understand....
His English fails him, but the exasperated 'come on, have half a brain, willya?' expression needs no translation. He gestures to the two kitchen stools lying end to end on the floor, the ones I'm blithely stepping over. This, apparantly, is a deliberate barrier rather than general sloppiness.
Okay, Carlos. Fine. I point to the ladder leaning against the wall I'm not allowed to approach.
Is it for sale?
He looks. He fumbles with a tag. He looks at me. His mouth works. He can't tell me what the tag says. If he can read it.
I'll come around, I sigh.
I come around. The tag says FURN DEPT. Not for sale, then.
He shakes his head.
(Michelle; The Beatles)