“That’s absolute not going to happen,” says Krini sourishly.
Although the two agricultural cousins, a modern word for peasants, talk and work together on a daily basis, there is an obvious disagreement concerning the order of development stages in the cultivation of violins with wheels.
“The religious stadium comes first.”
“Stage. My cousin Krini reads books. He also once wrote a book. Now he can call himself author.”
“I am an author. To the bone. Just as you are an entrepreneur, uh, all the way to, uh, the bone. That sounds silly doesn’t it? To be something you like all the way to the bone.”
“Yes, it sounds pretty neurotic.”
The two authors or cousins, rather, have begun one of their distinctive wipe-the-slate-clean-and-talk-about-how-we-are-in-reality-dialogues and a lot of what they say can be ignored. The reason I omit the rest of their conversation is that they are competing without talking which is inappropriate and sounds wrong in my trained upper-class ears. In addition, they speak the truth in a far too direct and deliberate way, which will not fit into a newspaper.