Skots says it’s funny how soft the bottoms of Isaac’s feet are–man he’s always getting thorns or glass stuck in them that everyone else just runs right over. He says it goes with Isaacs’s funny hair like grated carrots and all the freckles on his face that make it look like them white cheeks was sprayed with motor oil or something; goes with those funny shorts about twenty sizes too big that he can only wear cos his da has made all those extra baby holes in the belt for him. Skots laughs and says also maybe the soft feet have to do with Isaac’s skin that turns red as anything from one little tiny poke of the sun, and also look how skinny your legs are man, like two spaghettis.
They are all sitting in the burnt-out piece of veld behind Nussbaum’s kosher butchery, eating a pigeon that Isaac shot off the phone wire with his catty when everyone else missed, and suddenly everyone goes all quiet , Isaac feeling them watching him. All he can hear is the noise from Beit Street, a tram clanging and rumbling, Yiddish shouts from the men selling fruit or bread coal or ice.