he man says.РР“Here’s oatmeal,”the aide says. “Open.”And she touches the spoon to his lower lip.РР“I ordered Scrambled eggs,”says the man.РР“That’s right, ”the aide says.РРI step forward.РР“Is there anything I can do? ”I say.РР“Who are you? ”the man asks.РРIn the evening I go once more to that ward to make my rounds. The head nurse reports to me that Room 542 is deceased. She has discovered this quite by accident, she says. No, there had been no sound. Nothing. It ’s a blessing, she says.РРI go into his room, a spy looking for secrets. He is still there in his bed. His face is relaxed, grave, dignified. After a while, I turn to leave. My gaze sweeps the wall at the foot of the bed, andРРI see the place where it has been repeatedly washed, where the wall looks very clean and very white.РРР2
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