The Two Berbers

These are the times in between, the not quite days, the days left out and forgotten. He lived in the days in between, those days that never amount to anything. There are days that go unnoticed, remain outside. The man in the hat lived in such days, too many to remember. When the shamble leg man told him about the tortoise shell, which he did the next time they met, he said, ‘I’ve seen my fair share of porch roofs’. To which the shamble leg man replied, ‘me too, but I’ve forgotten most of them, or so I remember.’ The shamble leg man told the man in the hat that he knew a Berber who shaved two-by-fours into toothpicks. The man in the hat told the shamble leg man that he, too, knew a Berber, but this one made sailing ships out of toothpicks and ate nothing but tinned sardines on dry toast. Both men acknowledged the other, and shaking hands went about their business, the one to buy sardines, the other to find the Berber who made toothpicks out of two-by-fours. Such are the days in between that amount to nothing, and even if they did, would be quickly forgotten.