part one: posed
normajeanie’s room is open
Norma sets her laptop on the old costume chest at the foot of the bed.[1] Socks pulled up to her knees, an ambiguous ring on her left hand—these are the things they like.
ulikecashilikeass: nice to see u on again
ulikecashilikeass: got that real special look
Norma plays music. She doesn’t speak. She holds in reserve a shy smile, an embarrassed giggle, a silent shrug, and a clear glass dildo. These too they like. They write the story themselves.
eastcoastguy47: Ooh she married, gotta stay quiet so her hubby doesn’t hear
Her toes are pointed and her knees are bent and high so that her legs frame her body for the camera.
bigblackcockCa: hairy or no?
fantasiemie: show armpit
bemygf999: wow so beautiful
eastcoastguy47: natural girl. i like that
fanstasiemie: bra off please
fantasiemie tipped 1 token
Thank you—these two words she mouths to the camera, as though to a waiter who has just set a plate of hot, fragrant food in front of her. She refreshes her viewer count, located at the top of the chat: 358.
fantasiemie: bra off please
fantasiemie: i tipped
petitmort: hello from france
petitmort: show nipple
Norma changes the subject line of her room to TIP MENU IN BIO/30 TKNS GETS 1 PIECE OFF [30 tokens left]. The menu reads as follows:
PLEASE SPECIFY REQUEST WITH TIP!
nipple play … 11 tokens
show ass … 22 tokens
show pussy … 33 tokens
play with pussy … 66 tokens
glass dildo … 99 tokens
bemygf999: pm me
yourdaddy2: why so quiet?
petitmort tipped 11 tokens
Room Subject has changed to: TIP MENU IN BIO/30 TKNS GETS 1 PIECE OFF [18 tokens left]
Norma is wearing a lacy black bra.[2] She has the straps drawn loose so that she can do this next thing for the camera.
eastcoastguy47: free them boobies
petitmort: mmmm
Viewer count: 424
Private Message from bemygf999
bemygf999: can i just ask you something?
normajeanie: sure
bemygf999: why do you do this?
Private Message from yourdaddy2
yourdaddy2: what the fuck is my daughter doing on here?
normajeanie: ?
yourdaddy2: I’m your daddy 😉
bemygf999 tipped 18 tokens
Room Subject has changed to: TIP MENU IN BIO/30 TKNS GETS 1 PIECE OFF [30 tokens left][3]
Behind Norma a plain beige wall can be seen, and the top of a lamp that sits on her night stand.[4] She makes a show of taking her bra off, tossing it high in the air behind her. It silently smacks the back wall and drops down into the crevasse at the head of her bed.
petitmort: mmm stand up and jump to let them bounce
Private Message from bemygf999
bemygf999: sorry, just curious
bemygf999: when did you masturbate for the first time?
normajeanie: I’m not sure. I was really young.
bemygf999: what, like 10?
normajeanie: something like that.[5]
bemygf999: wow
bigblackcockCa: ever had a black cock?
shyvirgogo: some fine tits
shyvirgogo: love to see that ass
shyvirgogo tipped 22 tokens
Room Subject has changed to: TIP MENU IN BIO/30 TKNS GETS 1 PIECE OFF [8 tokens left]
chrissjoy29 tipped 1 token
Room Subject has changed to: TIP MENU IN BIO/30 TKNS GETS 1 PIECE OFF [7 tokens left]
chrissjoy29 tipped 1 token
chrissjoy29 tipped 1 token
Room Subject has changed to: TIP MENU IN BIO/30 TKNS GETS 1 PIECE OFF [5 tokens left]
Norma’s bed squeaks as she rests her weight on her knees and turns her body around.
bemygf999: come on guys she just needs 5 more to get those panties off
pantyhoser303: what’s ur biggest fantasy?[6]
bigblackcockCa: bet youd beg for a big black cock in that ass
Norma gives it a few smacks and sits back down. When her face is once again in view, she uses the embarrassed giggle.
bigblackcockCa: see that i made her smile
bigblackcockCa: how bad you want it?
Viewer count: 566
part two: intersection
When Norma signs off she sees a text from Daniel. “Hey Darlin’, what you up to?” She says she has slept in—“lazy bones”—and this feels true to her. He wants to come over, but she senses that something may be lingering in the air of her room—not the smell of sex, but perhaps the thickness of something not being said.[7]
+ + +
She is in Daniel’s bed, freshly showered. She has dark, long, thick hair that takes a long time to dry, and he is kissing her but she is preoccupied with running her fingers through the wet areas to make sure it doesn’t dry all crimpy and frizzy.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Have I told you how handsome you are?”
“Oh stop it.”
“You stop it.”
Daniel seizes the playful moment and playfully fiddles with the playful buttons of Norma’s jeans with his playful fingers….
“What are these still doing on, huh?”[8]
They are in a familiar rhythm. Norma on top of Daniel, Daniel cupping Norma’s right breast, Norma resting her hands on Daniel’s dark chest. Norma leans down, kisses Daniel. Daniel: mmm. Daniel smacks Norma’s ass. Norma: oo! Norma and Daniel look into each other’s eyes and smile. Norma lifts her body up until just before Daniel’s dick slips out of her, then with great control slides all the way back down. “Awwhh god,” Daniel hums.
Daniel: talk to me
Norma: what?
Daniel: talk dirty
Norma:
Norma thinks about that one time with Kevin, with the black bondage tape. She thinks about that scene from Inherent Vice, with Shasta, on the couch.[9]
part three
viewer count: 1537
Room Subject has changed to: 30 SECOND MASTURBATE EVERY 20 TOKENS! MAKE ME CUM!
dreadlockcocksta: I would slide my love stick into that warm pussy and spew my man sauce all over those luscious tits
supercashmo: umm dreadlock, are you an adult?
dreadlockcocksta: just tryin to lighten things up
crackerass299: not gonna lie, strokin it right now
crackerass299: can’t help it
uknowuwanit469 tipped 100 tokens
uknowuwanit469 tipped 100 tokens
uknowuwanit469: uh oh…
uknowuwanit469: …think im in love with a cam girl
uknowuwanit469 tipped 100 tokens
uknowuwanit469 tipped 100 tokens
babyboyNYC: OMG thank u uknowuwanit dont stop!
crackerass299: she perfect
viewer count: 2011
normajeanie:
ok everyone, it’s time for a
WALL OF TIPS!
uknowuwanit469: oh gladly sweetie
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
feendyfetish888: i will pay 1000 cash for you to sit on the toilet and try to poop. i will pay 1500 if you actually poop. please pm me and let me know will you do this
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
uknowuwanit469 tipped 1 token
dreadlockcocksta: please ban him
feendyfetish888 has been kicked/banned
dreadlockcocksta: thank god
dreadlockcocksta: fucked up the wall too
part four: a shape held
Norma’s silhouette is projected on the exterior wall of the house.[10] A dark impression, flush with light, hiccups along the cheap blue siding.[11]
An arm, long and slender, extends to grab hold of something, then disappears into her greater form.
The shadow is crisp, capturing every stray hair on her head, swelling with each slow drawing of breath, condensing into a ball as she folds into herself.[12]
part five: second intersection
Norma’s at her bedroom window, naked and panting, her face and chest ruddy with anger. This window looks down at the street that runs along the south side of the house, where Daniel’s car is parked. She watches as he gets in. The car starts. It sits.
She was lying belly-down on the bed, pecking at her laptop—“taking care of shit,” as she’d put it, loan payments and such. Daniel was sitting up, in his underwear, leaning his back against the wall and fidgeting absentmindedly through the items on Norma’s bed stand. Or, as Norma sensed, feigning absentmindedness, a detective putting the subject at ease. Norma’s legs crossed underneath the bend of Daniel’s knees, her body perpendicular and unconcerned with his. He tapped her buttock with his finger, said, “It’s like the waves of the ocean.”
“Mm.”
“Can I take a picture?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to.” She had switched to her Serious Voice, which employs an exaggerated articulation of the “t” sound.
“Come on….”
Norma felt Daniel shift on the bed, and she turned to see him bent over the far side, his right arm fishing through his clothes.
“It’s ridiculous that you can’t just hear me the first time. I said no.”[13]
“Okay, okay. I’m just seeing what time it is.”
“It’s 5:15.”
“Cool it, okay? Fuck.”
Norma turned her eyes back to her screen, as if to refocus her attention. Daniel told her once that when he was a kid, there was one year at camp when he was stung by a bee, bit by a snake, and sent to the infirmary with a rash from a particularly furry caterpillar, all in the same day. It wasn’t bad luck: he was simply told he couldn’t touch them, and thereby was doggedly set on doing so. Norma, on the other hand, has told Daniel the story of her fifth birthday party, wherein at a certain point in the day she was told it was time to open all her gifts, and she refused. The more they implored, the more certain she was that she would do no such thing. And so Norma and Daniel found themselves in this complex configuration on the bed, and Norma could see out of the corner of her eye Daniel “checking the time” with a certain attentiveness that did not entirely compute, and by the time he got that spark of a smirk on his face she was already yelling “Daniel fucking stop,” to which he looked at her and said, “you’re being crazy, I just want a picture of you,” and Norma pushed herself up off the bed and threw on the first piece of clothing she could find.
“Why’d you have to do that? The picture’s blurry,” he said, laughing a little, though he knew she was angry; she was in that superwoman pose her body finds when she’s really cross. “Oh my god, are you seriously mad?”
“Am I seriously—how about this: get the fuck out of my house?”
“Whoa. What the fuck.”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
“This is like… really unreasonable and crazy.”
“K. You’re in my bed right now. Get out of my bed.”
Here Daniel took a beat, and for a moment it looked like he would cave, walk out the door quietly, maybe even offer an apology. But a satisfaction flashed over his face as he looked over her body and said, “that’s my shirt.”
Watching the idled car from the window, unsoftened, Norma thinks maybe he’ll decide to come back up. She looks around for her robe, anything to cover her body with, when she hears his tires scrape the curb, and the indifferent rumble of the engine as it drifts away.
part six: reposed
normajeanie’s room is open
Norma sits on the floor of her room, her laptop perched on the costume chest.[14] She has on only a pair of boxer briefs and an oversized black t-shirt.[15]
bemygf999: hey
bemygf999: got an alert said you were on, lucky me
lickitydick: hottiieeee
bemygf999: what time is it where you are?
butttmann76: can we get that shirt off
27shooter27: u jus look good no matter wut u do
normajeanie’s room is closed
normajeanie’s room is open
lickitydick: sweety I think u gota bad connection
lickitydick has been kicked/banned
fookmai554: pm me
normajeanie’s room is closed
normajeanie’s room is open
stitchesbitches: yo
silverlining86: shy?
silverlining86: u new
normajeanie’s room is closed
normajeanie’s room is open
normajeanie’s room is closed
normajeanie’s room is open
goldenboiiii: u kinky?
goldenboiiii: cam2cam if u like
stitchesbitches: say something or ur a bot[16]
stitchesbitches has been kicked/banned
normajeanie’s room is closed
normajeanie’s room is open
normajeanie’s room is closed
normajeanie’s room is open
normajeanie’s room is closed
part seven: a shape observed
Norma and Daniel are sharing a joint on Norma’s back porch. After a few hits the conversation drops off, and they turn introspective. Observant, curious. How old is this house, they wonder aloud. It looks pretty new, not much history. But who’s lived here? In movies people return to their childhood homes, they just knock on the door and say, “I lived here as a girl,” and the current inhabitants invite them right in to look around. It is the first time they’ve thought about how strange this is. Can you imagine if someone really did that, they ask each other. Fucking ridiculous, Norma says. It’s hilarious to her, the idea of someone coming to her front door, their old, cherished home, to find the carpet stained with beer, the living room devoid of furniture except for a TV and two bean bag chairs someone picked up off a curb. She slaps her hand down on the porch laughing; the sting in her palm and the sound of her laughter echo together in her body and just like that become a parody of what they were, the way things do when you’re stoned. But would you let them in, Daniel asks her. He’s more serious now. He means not at this house, but… he’s searching for the words. Like if you had a house, not like this, a real house. There’s a distinction being made here, an important one: a real house like the one Daniel imagines is not just a house, but a vision of who you are meant to be.
“Wouldn’t you let them in?”
“No! That’s ridiculous,” Norma says.[17]
“Ridiculous,” Daniel says. “You use that word a lot. Do you know that?” He goes sullen and moody; she can feel this happen, right in her stomach and on her skin, like he’s a part of her.
“You still have your childhood home,” Norma says. When she starts saying it she knows why she had the thought, why it’s important, how it’s somehow at the core of this conversation, but by the time the last word “home” nestles into the air in front of her she’s lost hold of the idea, and there’s just that word, “home,” that leaves her with an awful sadness that she senses is not just a chemical reaction like emotion sometimes is; that is to say it’s not a by-product of the conversation, it’s more like an unearthed thing, something that was there all along.
“Yeah, I do,” Daniel says. He says it like he might have forgotten he had a home for a moment, an easy thing to forget when you’re a thousand miles away from where you grew up, on your girlfriend’s porch, smoking a joint.
“My parents sold the house after I left,” she says.
“I know that.” After a moment he says, “Exactly! Wouldn’t you want to go back?”
“Of course I would.”
“But you wouldn’t even let you in.”
“Well… what?”
“Never mind.”
It’s tiring, this keeping track of whatever it is they don’t agree on. Norma’s got something in her head that feels too big to just start putting words to; it’d be like moving a sand castle up the beach. Because, see, she did go back, and she wants to tell Daniel how foolish it is to do such a thing, how horrible, and how if given the opportunity she would gladly save others from such horrid foolishness. If someone showed up at her doorstep this evening, singing of home, she would shut the door in their face.
She’s thinking of a poem—something in the tumble of Daniel’s words made her think of it—and it occurs to her now that the poem might be the best way to convey this big thing to Daniel.
“There’s a poem, it’s called Amaze?” She doesn’t explain that it’s not really the poem called Amaze, which is a real poem, but a rewriting of the poem that happened in her head as she stood outside her childhood home in the dark, looking through the windows into the well-lit rooms.[18]
“I know
Not this my house
And yet I think there was
Someone like me once had a house
Like this.”[19]
She thought it looked very clean, in there. She thought it had no soul.[20] She felt sorry for looking, so sorry, so she kept walking down the middle of the street like she had been, turning her neck, and then her shoulders too, and on until she was walking backward down the street, the rooms of her old, cherished house disappearing behind the shutters.
Norma can’t bring herself to turn to Daniel, who hasn’t said a word. She looks instead at the backyard, where she would swear she can see each atom in every object, even the air, like seeing stars before you faint. She sighs and tilts her head so her hair brushes her shoulder, performing beauty and also feeling it, pretending she’s forgotten he’s there at all.
1. Inside the dark green chest are words her mother used to say: words like taffeta, tulle, and ruching, none of which were ever fully understood by Norma in her childhood but which she knew held transformative power. The glass pendant looped through with yarn looked enough like diamond to correct one’s posture in the mirror, this she knew. The polyester white gloves, if pulled on just so, were the stuff of royalty. And she knew as well from movies that a princess waves with fingers flush and taught, and turns her head as though it is on a swivel. [back]
2. She got this bra for $25.95, or 519 tokens. It pinches and can be seen through every shirt she owns, so she does not wear it outside of this room. [back]
3. Sometimes, during a lull where no one is tipping, Norma cruises around the rooms of other women. Once she saw a woman sitting on a couch with her top off sipping wine and reading a book. There were almost 2000 viewers, in constant chatter. Only on one occasion has she tipped in someone’s room. There were two women on a bed, both naked, and “Spanking—38 tokens” caught Norma’s eye. She hadn’t cashed her tokens out yet and anyway she’d earned over her goal for that week. They took turns spanking each other: 15 each, no more, no less. [back]
4. Norma rents a 9×10 room in a two-story house in a clean college town in Arizona. She works on-call at the bookstore in town. She tends to masturbate upon waking, before her housemates have gotten up, thinking of either that one time when Melissa pulled her into the changing room at the thrift store and they fell into each other and Melissa’s hot laugh tingled the hair on Norma’s neck, or that other time her boss brushed his thumb against her wrist to look closely at the tattoo he pretended to notice for the first time. She finds it is better to open her room after she is done with this, because she is already wet. [back]
5. It wasn’t something like that. It didn’t just start one day; it crept up slowly, imperceptibly, like a warm wind or a slow drawing of the tide, and over a matter of years began to gather matter, build strength and swell, until it was something that could be directly acknowledged by a hand slipped between warm lips, a moan muffled by a pillow so the sister wouldn’t hear. And even then it continued to sharpen and define itself, and in fact it still has not finished doing so. [back]
6. In those first years when sexual desire was still a new layer of consciousness not yet recognized, Norma would lie awake in the bottom bunk and quietly imagine—to no particular end, just until she drifted off to sleep—her very first fantasy, which she came back to again and again: a cold stone table, her wrists and ankles tied down, and a figure standing over her, the face undefined, looking on as though still deciding what to do. [back]
7. Secrets can be like this. It’s a kind of magical thinking, really; under the weight of a secret, a room appears to have the power to tell anyone who walks into it what has happened there. [back]
8. By the end of middle school she imagined she collected boys like the glass figurines on the shelf by her bed. But things shifted in high school, and they all seemed a bit more like wild animals bursting from their boyish skin, unruly and slippery, their transformations loud and frightening and demanding of attention. She couldn’t always avoid being drawn in by them. She remembers one day at the mall with Justin, his brother Caleb, and their cousin—how can she remember this day so well but not the boy’s name? She was crazy about him. Norma had perched herself on the stainless steel counter of an unoccupied kiosk, the cousin leaning against her legs. His head was at chest level on her, turned away. On an impulse she leaned forward and nibbled his ear, her tongue curling against it. He turned to look at her and said in a low voice, one that she wasn’t sure the others could hear, you shouldn’uh done that. You are in so much trouble. She felt a shock through her body like she’d missed a step and fallen into a canyon that she hadn’t known existed between them. She’d been old enough to do the thing but too young to understand the response. She shrank in her skin, cheeks flushed—scolded, shamed. She laughed, piling dirt over the feeling. Years later she saw that he had been telling her something in a frequency too low for her to hear, but by then the event and her feelings around it were as settled as sediment. [back]
9. In the comments section of porn videos by Kink, Norma is comforted to read the following: “not gonna lie, wish my boyfriend would fuck me like this.” But the manifold replies of men offering their services to the candid woman make her cringe. [back]
10. Norma is drawn outside by this magical time of day when the sun seems to be drenched in honey. A while back she dated a guy named Anthony who was a photographer, and he gave a name to this thing that she likes: The Golden Hour. While it is true that this time of day makes her think of him, it is not in a romantic way; it is the way in which the rain makes her think of England despite her never having been there—a vague and meaningless association, yet somehow adding to the experience of the thing. She had not known she liked it so much before Anthony had explained why it was so damned appealing. While this is true, it is also the case that Anthony has unwittingly robbed Norma of an innate and pure appreciation with his need to impress her. [back]
11. This is the fifth house Norma has lived in since she first left her parents’ home. This means she is familiar with the drive to unfamiliar locations, the knock on the door answered by what until that moment had only been a voice on the other end of the phone but now might very well be a man who can fill a doorway rather effectively. And he might wave her inside, looking rather bored. “This is the place, kind of a mess right now…” and “this is the room,” and it may be empty, vacant, but still dirty somehow. And when he turns his body sideways to allow her to enter and look around she might adopt the body language of someone who does not pick up on social cues. She will wait, his eyes turning quizzical, a discomfort growing palpable between them, until he shrugs and enters first, because nothing—nothing—can persuade Norma to put this man’s body between her and the door, the only way out of the quiet room. [back]
12. Lately she is interested in the idea of her body as poetry. Has it been mentioned that Norma is a writer? She is humiliated by it, the awkward way she says, “I write,” or “I want to be a writer,” or that worst word of all, poet. She hates that no matter the order or the cadence, when these words are spoken to an older man, they transform him into master, father, benefactor. He will say to her, “If you write then you must say ‘I am a writer,’ because that is what you are.” He will be unsated by her flat expression and will go on like this: “I can see you’re a writer. No, I mean it, don’t make that face, I can see there’s something special there.” Norma feels as though these words are meant to make her body pliable, her affections mutable, a blanket that takes the shape of whatever it is thrown upon. And on his part, her body writes a stream of intention that leads only to him, and she is both muse and artist, beautiful and good but somehow bewitching and dangerous. And it’s this she wonders as she stands in front of him: might her body reveal her? What might the man see written there, if he would only pay attention? Her mother, how Norma fit and grew inside her contours, and her sister, how Norma wrapped herself around her as a tiny child; their separations a diaspora, a pangea drawn apart; the hard bike seat that broke her hymen; the ring her parents gave her which she grew around until it had to be cut off her hand and melded back together? [back]
13 Like pearls on a string, the impending fight tugs through time every moment passed where Norma was not heard.[back]
14. She hasn’t opened the chest since she took it from her parents’ basement back when they were moving. She hasn’t thought of it like that, like a thing that can be opened, and anyway it’s usually covered with books or blankets or serving a purpose as it is at this very moment. It belonged to her grandmother, who moved in with the family when dementia began to pull her back from the present. When Norma watched closely she could see her grandmother resisting this, in the contortions of her face as she tried to dig up lost words. Of course the irony is, or at least Norma thinks this is irony, if she opened the chest now, the smell of vetiver—her grandmother’s scent—would overtake the room, and imprint itself on each atom there, that pure distillation of memory preserved all this time and unleashed to reveal the vulnerability of solid things: objects wholly permeated—rendered meaningless, confounded, jettisoned into another reality—when washed in the power of this. [back]
15. Several men have called this outfit “cute” on Norma, but that is not why she chose the boxers and the shirt she stole from her sister’s room ages ago. She chose these clothes because it’s hard, sometimes, to be naked. It’s tiring. [back]
16. It’s occurred to Norma that she isn’t particularly good at this work. Not like some people are. For one thing, the people who get the most tips actually speak, interacting freely with the scroll of obscenities. She doesn’t know exactly why she won’t do that, except that the more it is demanded of her to speak, the calmer her vocal chords become, as though coaxed into a deep meditation. [back]
17. It doesn’t seem to occur to Daniel that letting a stranger into your home might be more dangerous for one of them than for the other. But then, that’s not the only reason Norma is so dismissive of the idea. [back]
18. The poem “Amaze,” by Adelaide Crapsey, goes like this: “I know/ Not these my hands/ And yet I think there was / Someone like me once had hands / Like these.” Norma read it a long time ago, she doesn’t remember where or when, and if someone were to rummage through her room they might find little slips of paper with this poem written on them, here and there. The poem makes her think of her mother, whose hands were always active, rifling through her drawstring purse or drumming their fingertips on the table or doodling while listening to a relative on the phone. The hands were an obvious symbol for her ancestors, the matrilinea—a romantic interpretation. But as she stood in the street, the street she grew up on, and the object of the poem was overwritten, house over hands, it all seemed to turn. It’s not about the house, or the hands, after all; it’s about her, in fluid rotation around these hard, still things. [back]
19. How it is that she’s able to recite these words in her current state is no mystery. She simply does not try to remember it, rather lets herself fall back on the rhythm of her mouth and tongue, the pulling of her lips for “someone like me,” the bounce of her jaw when she says “and yet.” It’s divided from memory, even inhibited by it. As she makes these sounds this night, she becomes sure that this is what her voice was made for—a revelation she will cling to, but which will dissipate like fog caught in sunlight by the morning. [back]
20. Evenings in that house, Norma claimed the chair at the dining room table where the thick, stable wall was at her back, and not the black glass, which showed only a reflection to whoever rested inside but could reveal the warm world of family to anyone who might linger in the dark. But peering into the dining room that night, she didn’t feel as though she were spying on a world meant to be concealed; the cleared table, the tall armoir with china inside, the old wallpaper scraped off and painted over with a crisp white —she had the feeling that this was nothing more than a tableau, that she saw only what she was meant to see. [back]
Image: Chest box from Greater Bristol. By Lesser Columbus published by Pelham Press (1893). Original from the British Library. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel, CC0 1.0.