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!How would you design a School of Betterment? Did one of Jennifer’s delightful words particularly grab you? Are you a saggy hound or a tahala? How does sorrow relate to beauty? Join us in the forum. :-)