The Body Electric

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The Body Electric

The Body Electric

“There are many locked doors in this house,” Tesla told me skipping down the corridor, in her ruffled dress, giggling delighted. Her sounds should have been those of a playful child, but coming from her mouth, in that house, they seemed more like the distant laments of a ghost. Her face was covered by a veil, but it could not hide the red pallor of her lips or the way they curled in mischievous satisfaction whenever she troubled those around her. She was “the body electric”, sacrosanct mater familias, a child of barely nine. After dinner on my first evening

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