picky raze "when i first came here," the barber said, "i didn't know any english. i listened. i learned. now i'm the radio. i talk all the time. my customers teach me new things every day. i knew food could spoil, but i didn't know you could spoil your children too. so many words have more than one story to tell." the man whose beard he was trimming asked him when he knew he wanted to do this kind of work. "ever_since i was a boy," the barber said. "but in my country, there was no money in it." he reached for a bottle of hair gel. the man with the beard held up one hand. "i'm fussy," he said. "do you know that word?" "picky," the barber said, running his fingers across the brittle teeth of a plastic comb. 260826 what's it to you? who go blather from