Albert Bierstadt Yosemite Valley painting

Albert Bierstadt Yosemite Valley paintingClaude Monet The Red Boats Argenteuil paintingClaude Monet Monet The Luncheon painting
your own, and then to argue with him was called a betrayal of his love, but never mind that now, _I accuse him of becoming my supreme being, so that what happened was like a loss of faith_ . . . yes, the father ship, an aircraft was not a flying womb but a metal phallus, and the passengers were spermatozoa waiting to be spilt.
Five and a half hours of time zones; turn your watch upside down in Bombay and you see the time in London. _My father_, Chamcha would think, years later, in the midst of his bitterness. _I accuse him of inverting Time_.
How far did they fly? Five and a half thousand as the crow. Or: from Indianness to Englishness, an immeasurable distance. Or, not very far at all, because they rose from one great city, fell to another. The distance between cities is always small; a villager, travelling a hundred miles to town, traverses emptier, darker, more terrifying space.
What Changez Chamchawala did when the aeroplane took off: trying not to let his son see him doing it, he crossed two pairs of fingers on each hand