|Subject:||[Directvnc-user] African cross section|
|Date:||Mon, 11 Sep 2006 22:32:55 -0000|
The birdsseemed alive still, but swooning under their rich damp feathers.
I canthave it, I cant possess it, she thought. At the mention of those words it became obvious, surely,that she must be happy. Fanny had surprised her in a momentof ecstasy. Holman, about the girl with the swollenjoints. Then again up shot the rockets, thereddish purple pheasants.
But, it alwaysseemed to add, you break, you pass, you go.
Miss Milans littleworkroom was really terribly hot, stuffy, sordid.
Then in the midst of this creeping, crawling life, suddenly shewas on the crest of a wave. Downstruck the finger of the sun and her eye went with it.
Her mind then was filled with tenderness and regret.
Those werethe things she talked about at dinner certainly.
The shooters had moved now from the Kings Ride to the Home Woods. But she had only a suit case and the pheasants. She found the climate of Edinburgh goodfor her. The birdsseemed alive still, but swooning under their rich damp feathers. Nothing stayed the same for two secondstogether.
Here she broke off, to denounce acridly the draughts in the Tubes. As if one went to aparty to look at a picture! Ifonly one could feel that and stick to it, always.
She felt like a dressmakers dummy standingthere, for young people to stick pins into.
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