In the midst of a great fury of squawking, squattering, snapping, snaggering, and stampeding, these few sentences, a momentary calm, hang in the air as if gliding.
There are those who are lucky enough to find a life of settled, unsquillious domesticitude in this world. There are also those who are lucky enough to soar on the back of the Lone Fendril behind a woman whose face has been furrowed by suffering and whose mind has been sown with hope.
I am the second kind of lucky.
What was your favorite passage from the second half of this story? Share it in the comments!