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The old women, thrifty with words, haggling for oranges, their mouths take bites out of the air. They know the value of oranges. They had to learn everything on their own.
The young women are the worst off, no one has bothered to show them things. You can see their minds on their faces, they are like little lakes before a storm. They don´t know it´s confusion that makes them sad. It´s lucky in a way though, because the young men take a look of confusion for inscrutability, and this excites them and makes them want to own this face they don´t understand, something to be tinkered with at their leisure.
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