From 'Iep!' (not yet translated into English) 
(Warre has found a creature, half girl, half bird)
Translation of this extract: Lance Salway Warre and Tina were having soup. It was soup with little noodles. Noodles in the shape of little letters. They fished for words. Whoever made a word, ate it up.
Tina ate put and bus and so. Warre ate mat and fit and bun. And by mistake he also ate fon, which doesn't mean anything but tasted good just the same.
"Warre," Tina said suddenly.
"Mmm?" said Warre.
"Our Biddie has a speech defect."
"Well, lots of people have speech defects," said Warre. "Usually with the r. Some people pwonounce the r like a w. But there's nothing wong with them apart fwom that."
"Yes, but she doesn't have any hands either. You're not going to get very far in the world without any hands and with a speech defect, are you?"
"You don't have to worry about that sort of thing with birds, surely?"
"But she isn't really a bird! Birds never say: Ee wint ee peenit bitter sindweetch! They NEVER say that! Oh Warre, what's to become of her? It's not clear what she is, she'll never know where she comes from, she hasn't any hands and she's got a speech defect."
"But she 's got wings, hasn't she?" said Warre.
All at once Tina began to cry. The falling tears made little rippling circles in her soup. All of them the letter o. 
"Why couldn't you have found an ordinary child? One with arms like mine? That we could show to everyone and they'd all say:" Goodness, doesn't she look like you?" What use are wings anyway?"
"You can do a lot with them," Warre tried to reassure her. "There are always things that have to be done high up. Delivering air mail and so on. Or keeping a check on things from above."
"What sort of things?"
"I don't know exactly, but I do know that there's a lot that has to be checked from above and it would be so much easier with wings."
"Really?"
"Really! She's got something that other people haven't."
"Fof," said Tina.
"What?"
"Fof. I'm going to eat up the word fof."
And that's what she did.
With her mouth closed. From 'Bezoekjaren'(with Malika Blain)
Translation: Lance Salway My father sent off a great many letters, starting with one to the King.
Close by the royal palace, the public letter-writers sat in their booths, each of them behind a typewriter. They could turn any dialect into classical Arabic. They always wanted more money for a letter than my father was willing to pay and so he would haggle with them or else move on to the next until he found one that charged less.
I was with him when he composed his first letter to the King. This cost more than an ordinary letter, because it was for the King.
The letter-writer rolled a piece of paper into the typewriter and my father sat beside him under the lean-to and asked how he should begin. The writer said that the letter should start with Your Majesty, Illustrious Majesty, Father of the Nation, may your Magnanimous and Paternal Kingship be Exalted and Glorified by God…was that enough or should he perhaps add a little more?
That was enough.
The letter-writer pounded the typewriter with his fingers. It was an old model. One of the letters was out of place, a thin steel arm was sticking up from the half-circle of little arms that struck the letters on the paper. The writer pushed the arm back into place. The tips of his fingers were black from the ribbon and he didn't want any smudges on the letter.
What comes next, he asked.
And my father explained that Amrar was gone and had propably been arrested and that his son had never done anything wrong and they wanted to know where he was and they wanted him to be set free, because he was still so young and still at school and Your Majesty would surely know that his father, the father of his son, he himself that is, had taken part in the march to the Sahara, for King and Fatherland, he had even got a medal for it, for this service, and his son, Amrar, had never experienced our humiliation by the French but like his father he only wanted the best for his country and he was in his final year at high school and he was the eldest son and their future and the best in the class and Your Majesty had an eldest son too and they could no longer bear the uncertainty of his fate and he had always warned his son but that had better not go in.
The public letter-writer turned all this into perfect sentences. Majestic sentences. He left out the bit about the French.