listography: books (pachinko (I))

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listography	GIVE A GIFT OF MEMORIES
	FAVORITE LISTOGRAPHY MENTIONS
	IMPORTANT NOTICES
	MESSAGES
	PRIVACY

bel

books (pachinko (I))

decimate
perepeteia and anagnorisis
preponderant
parsimonious (on these grounds alone)
at first blush
the posturing on social media
reciprocity is not the quid pro quo we're familiar with
fashionable to talk about how dreadful things are
carte blanche
my 'side hustle' acts as a reprieve from my day job, and the distraction alleviates my mood
harvest my introvert energy through a solitary lunch
commiserate
she couldn't fathom what to say
it was unthinkable
Hoonie would have known enough not to want something he could not have—this forbearance was something that any normal peasant would have accepted about his life and what he was allowed to desire.
she deprecated her own children
measuring the size of the kitchen with her exacting eyes
After her speech, the matchmaker stared at the olive-skinned woman whose face was immobile, casting about for any sign of interest.
Pollack and squid strung neatly across a long clothesline dried in the lacy spring sun.
The comforting aroma of barley and millet steaming in the black rice pot wafted through the small house.
the matchmaker was certain that even Hoonie could have a healthy bride, so she plowed ahead
The mother would have given up anything to raise the bride price demanded; Hoonie’s mother found herself surprised at the imaginings and hopes rising within her breast, but her face remained collected and private; nevertheless, the matchmaker was no fool.
making her closing gambit while peering hard at the boardinghouse keeper’s creased, brown face
Hoonie’s mother smiled, finally, because the image was almost too vivid for her. What old woman didn’t yearn to hold her grandson when such a thought had been inconceivable before this visit?
Sunja was a normal-looking girl with a quick laugh and bright, but to her father, she was a beauty, and he marveled at her perfection. Few fathers in the world treasured their daughters as much as Hoonie, who seemed to live to make his child smile.
inconsolable
a marriage could beget children
well rested and feisty
reports were far too plentiful
grandiose ideas
the house was still for a couple of Hours
ah, the belly has a better memory than the heart!
he slipped on his shoes in haste
the blustering man's lofty speech
ashen pallor
if he was supposed to die, he hoped to die swiftly to spare the innocent
he cursed himself privately
Arrogant interlopers
overlook his stares
concealing his interest
there was the slightest Jeju lilt to his speech, a lengthening of certain vowels
she had something distinct in her bearing, a kind of purposefulness
derogatory epithet
she found herself saying, her voice trailing off
he felt depleted again and he knew he needed to rest
the new guest continued to sleep beside them, his slumber punctuated now and then by a muffled cough
the sea was bluer than she had remembered, and the long, thin clouds seemed paler - everything seemed more vibrant with him here.
Hansu's eyes searched the cluster of low waves in the middle of the sea and settled on the horizon.
she liked his voice - it was a masculine, knowing voice with a trace of melancholy
she breathed deeply, her lungs and heart filling with anticipation and wonder. she had always loved this beach - the unending expanse of pale green and blue water, the tiny white pebbles framing the black rocks between the water and the rocky soil. the silence here made her safe and content. almost no one ever came here, but now she would never see this place the same way again.
he picked up a smooth, flat stone by her foot - black with thin grey striations.
she didn't protest, because she liked the idea of travelling with him
the more she saw him, the more vivid he grew in her mind.
she was enraptured by his talk and his experiences, which were far more unique than the adventures of fishermen or workers who had come from far-flung places
she felt giddy that she could tell him she was going elsewhere
Excitement beaming from his face
stared at her pensively
his face softened
the coastline seemed more glorious than it had ever been
she nodded as he spoke, trying to remember his every word, to hold on to his every image, and to grasp whatever he was trying to tell her. she treasured his stories like the beach glass and rose-colored stones she used to collect as a girl - his words astonished her because he was taking her by the hand and showing her new, unforgettable things.
his obvious delight at their excursion
endeavoured to be clean
the long walk to the forest felt brief
expanse of blue-green water
he had talked for the entire length of the walk about traveling and work, yet at the sight of the coloured leaves and bumpy tree trunks, Hansu fell silent
the wooded mountains of Jeju had been his sanctuary; he had known every tree on the volcano Halla-san
he moved toward her. she could smell his soap and the wintergreen of his hair wax. he was cleanly shaven and handsome
her father had taught her not to judge people on such shallow points: what a man wore or owned had nothing to do with his heart and character
she inhaled deeply, his scent mingled with the cleansing air of the forest
she couldn't imagine being happier than she was at that moment
she had betrayed her mother and father, who had done nothing but work hard and take care of her like a jewel
he stopped and looked at her, needing to reevaluate the girl standing in front of him
indebted to
vigilant
she didn't encourage my leaving home
they improved their behaviour in the proximity of such a well-mannered person
calisthenics
the area was desolate
he peered into her troubled face
he felt awful for making another imposition
swallow lungfuls of salty air
the heavy scent of seaweed, the foamy lather of the waves along the rocky beach, and the emptiness of the blue-and-gray landscape but for the white circling birds above them
the morning sun warmed his uncovered head
not feeling any trace of illness within his tall, gaunt frame
he possessed an innocence, she supposed, a kind of childlike wholeness that couldn't be hidden
she was miserable. she had no time for this walk, and being outside made the dull weight in her heart take a definable shape; it pressed against her from the inside
being with him was disorienting, yet his unexpected question broke the gauzy spell
he felt an overwhelming sense of brokenness in the people
I am sorry that you are suffering. I'm not a parent, but I think parents hurt with their children
she was lost in her sadness
there's more to everything than we can know
they talked about his death as a certainty
little had been expected of his future
he became almost inured to death; his frailty had reinforced his conviction that he must do something of consequence while he had the time
he was an open-minded person with a generous nature
the whole religion thing was a racket for overeducated men who didn't want to do real work
he felt gleeful
lately, he had been feeling lonesome
although he knew of these sad developments, he felt ready to face the trials
a sin is always a transgression against God
he nodded gravely
if you love anyone, you cannot help but share his suffering
incredulous
if it Hadn't been for the warm letters from his friends attesting to his intelligence and competence
he had never articulated this thought before, and this surge of wanting a wife felt strange and good to him
what he said sounded glib and foolish
his faith had not wavered, but his temperament had altered seemingly forever
he was beyond dissuading
impulse to help
he rooted in his pockets for tobacco
sheepish
at the thought of him marrying, her neck flushed scarlet with desire
untenable
anguish had deepened the lines along her mother's mouth like a frown setting in for good
nevertheless, she couldn't stop thinking of him. whenever she'd met him at the cove, the cloudless sky and jade-coloured water would recede from her sight, leaving only the images of him, and she used to wonder how their time together could vanish so quickly
she was bereft
he had not been lying, but that was little consolation
he came out momentarily
the suggestion came to him spontaneously
it was easy to feel his comforting presence
she trusted he had a sound reason for this request
he felt light and clean inside, as if his diseased lungs had been scoured back to health
nothing in her prosaic appearance conjured up the harlot the prophet had been forced to marry
filter her destiny though her father's eyes
he wanted to assure them he was well-meaning
her voice tremulous
her sentiment saddened him
he said each word thoughtfully
in his exuberance to be a martyr
he felt compelled to protect her
I don't know if this is prudent
her sobs subsiding
preposterous
her eyes welled up in tears
the bit he'd squirrelled away for occasions like this
she would've chided her sister's impertinence
she was amazed at such a prospect she had just invented for them
her broad face broke into a sad smile. her tiny, gracious eyes, which resembled tadpoles, pulled downward to meet her knobby cheekbones
hawkers milled around noisily in the crowded terminal
the algae scent of the sea mingled with the fuel smells of the ferry
she reasoned
she doubled over slightly, emitting a little cry of pain
she was tenderhearted to a fault
reserve judgement
radial lines had surfaced around his gentle, smiling eyes
uncanny
the road was teeming with streetcars; hordes of pedestrians streamed in and out of the entrances
the building was like nothing she had ever seen before - a stone and concrete behemoth
she marvelled that
she remained quiet and still like a seedling sprouting from new soil, upright and open to collect the light. she would have uprooted herself to have seen the world with him, and now she was seeing it without him
she didn't pay any mind to the conversation
as before, she held her bundles close to her heart and belly to inhale the lingering scent of home on the fabric covering her possessions
the wide streets of Downtown Osaka were lined with rows of low brick buildings and smart-looking shops
the exterior of the house belied its comfortable interior
crowded Korean enclave
her eyes lit up
they'd make a tasty broth from stones and bitterness
these ideals seemed secondary to his job and Sunja
he nodded, but the anxiety in his body felt out of control, and warning his brother - even if it meant sounding hysterical - felt necessary to dissipate some of that worry
he nodded, praying inside that he would never come to any harm. his unqualified pleasure at his brother's arrival was short-lived; he hadn't realised what it would mean to worry about another person in this way
it emitted a steady, calming hum
the room was still suffused with the dim glow from the adjoining room
Each had seen the other in deeply compromised situations
she berated herself privately, not wanting him to think she was spoiled
level-headed and capable, not always sensible
they chastised him all the time for not trying hard enough
his expression remained calm and certain
he felt impatient to end the meeting, who were no closer to a resolution
from the tone of his voice, there was no possibility of the siblings' dissent
he craned his head lower, feeling exhausted by their intransigence
sins couldn't be laundered by good results
he was astonished by her clarity; she had thought this through
in the presence of these young people, he felt like a selfish fool
she had demurred
"..", he prefaced, and she appeared visibly relieved
his concern is legitimate
he nodded in agreement, gratified by his compassion and wisdom. he wouldn't have known what to say
care about such niceties
ruminating deeply about this
these kinds of men seem so pliable
the girls end up paying bitterly for their mistakes
aristocrats reduced to nothing
the camps are no better; the conditions are deplorable
his tone sounded unfeeling
he blushed, pleased by this mention
assessed egregiously by the government
tremendous aptitude
the daily tasks of cooking and cleaning were considerably less onerous than caring for a boardinghouse
save every extra yen entrusted to her
her clothes were an inevitable badge of difference
perplexed
back home, we scrimped
my pipe dreams of becoming the kimchi ajumma of .. station
she had a joyous laugh
she could neither agree nor disagree, so she let the statement hang in the air
he was in actuality saying that ,,,
regardless, it wasn't her place to say
she appeared flustered
they laughed heartily together
electric fans whirred quietly in the opposite corners of the office
his hometown accent was hard to place
she marvelled at him appearing calmer than she'd ever seen her
he snapped, irritated by her insolence
innumerable types of trees
she had to be rid of him, to stop this endless recollection of the one person she wished to forget
she spoke up, her voice tremulous
invariably
she averted her eyes, trying to keep from talking back to him
he tried to calm them so they could speak more coherently
he asked tentatively
she got up leisurely
I put a burden on you that I hadn't anticipated. the fault is mine
the other men who sponged off their wives toiling in factories
glean some truth
he saw himself as a rational person, and it was too simplistic to believe that all Japanese police officers were evil
he fielded her questions
the wildly varying reports were at best troubling and at worst terrifying
rouse national feeling
to this, he yielded
the market hosted a collection of hawkers who peddled homemade scallion pancakes and rolled sushi
she couldn't come up with a reply
passengers would disembark
there was no shame in her work, but it couldn't be what they'd wanted for her
the chorus of women hawking
the heavy frames of his eyeglasses detracted from his good features
she looked up again, surprised by his insistence
he was reputed to be able to cure many ailments
people were willing to lie about small things and to disregard your interests
procuring the cabbage
clothes smelled immutably of kimchi
slovenly nature of foreigners
loathe incompetence and sloth
periodically
he wanted to tell her the things he'd been saving up for her
back home, having two healthy and good sons was tantamount to having vast riches
scant tutoring
strengthen his resolve to learn
he said, his exhausted voice tapering off
he hadn't realised how much he'd missed his father until he returned. the ache of missing him had surfaced in his small, concave chest, and he felt anxious about the pain that was sure to return
a mild, wintry morning
requisitioned
sullen, brooding
she could do little to dispel his gloom and silence
her head felt foggy
she had loved his face the way she had loved the brightness of the moon and the cold blue water of the sea
he remained composed, certain of every measured word he uttered
the shortage of men impaired his ambitions for the farm
saddled with them for much longer
they configured the barn to make it habitable for them
tended the garden ably
her eyes downcast
a bigoted man
bellies full and well housed, they had only contempt for the loud animals
glittering images of such urban pleasures called to them still, feeding their growing discontent
hold a grudge for days in punitive silence
he interrupted her reverie
he nodded reassuringly, fully cognisant that he was getting back his room
she observed him, unable to make sense of this man who had never left her life
treat him with deference
a serene island with blue-green waters
it was a starry evening, breathlessly quiet after an extended season of cicadas
the way he spoke in his measured cadences
they were pathologically intractable
in the scheme of things
the more she got to know this man, the more she realised that the man she'd loved as a girl was an idea she'd had of him - feelings without any verification
he had tasted something sweet and cool tonight, and now he wanted an immense tubful of it - enough to bathe deeply in its refreshment
his health was declining precipitously
as the sun set, the dusk gave off a muted gray-and-pink light
even at the end of a long workday, there was still something so clean and bright in her expression; it could not be defiled
he would continue to suffer with love
once-tenderhearted people seemed wary and tough. there was innocence left only in the smallest children
confounded
when he had tried to explain heaven, she had imagined her hometown as paradise - a clear, shimmering beauty. even the memory of the moon and stars in Korea seemed different than the cold moon here
green, glassy sea
when she was there, she had not loved it enough
their pathetic attempts to scrounge up enough money
hasten to judgment when others endured agony
never one to talk much, as she'd gotten older her mother had a lot more to say, but she never seemed to know what to say to her
they worked nimbly until sunlight filled the house
her face brightened
prodigious efforts to teach him
he had tremendous verbal facility
writing lamed him brutally
with remarkable patience
he sat at the end of the long table with two seat gaps around him like an invisible parenthesis
there was something plush and sensual about his thickly rounded arms and swollen belly
not the least bit ruffled by his confusion
why did God bring him this far? he was suffering, and in a way, he could manage that; but he had caused others to suffer, and he did not know why he had to live now and recall the series of terrible choices that had not looked so terrible at the time. was that how it was for most people? since the fire, in the few moments when he felt clear and grateful to breathe without pain, he wanted to see the good in his life, but he couldn't. he lay on his well-laundered pallet, dwelling on the mistakes that seemed so obvious in hindsight. he was no longer angry at Korea or Japan; most of all, he was angry about his own foolishness.
he liked this quiet spot beneath the tarpaulin awning on the busy intersection
his adoration and kindness had nourished her but had also caused her anguish, because she could not care for him in that way
morning sunlight broke through the window, and it was hard to see straight ahead, but the light cast a glowing outline around her slight frame
after a few hiccups and several thoughtful attempts
marked difference
in thrall with just being at university
like a man starved, he filled his mind, ravenous for good books
remind him of his mission in the world for some higher purpose that neither could articulate fully
his life felt ideal, and he was grateful
A was not as exciting or developed as B
she said, undeterred
pretext to eject all the unwanted foreigners
he walked home alone, deep in thoughts of her
he was fastidious about how his staff should look
in the slant of light from the skylight, a pale column of dust motes pierced the room
he had grown noticeably more attractive
couldn't help being drawn to the young one
he had his father's purposeful gaze and welcoming smile
not prone to moodiness
he had a kind of comic facility combined with a physical smoothness
her skills were secondary to the fact that she had to respect him, to humour him even
it was already October, and though the early evening breezes had yet to lose the supple warmth of summer, the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn gold and shiny. the tall tree above him formed a burnished metallic lace against the blurry evening sky
the new bakery selling sponge cakes, which perfumed the street invitingly, had achieved sufficient fame in Osaka to command long lines each morning
the witches and ghouls of their high school emerged to the fore, forcing him to retreat to any available sanctuary
filled his burgeoning sketchbooks with pencil drawings in the safety of a kind hearted art teacher's classroom
his lovely colouring was more olive than golden and his fringed, ink-black eyes, constantly bemused, invited women to linger in his presence
muster affection
to her, being Korean was just another horrible encumbrance, much like being poor or having a shameful family you could not cast off
he smiled at her Kindly, wanting to disabuse her of such idolatrous notions
listen to the girl stumble in English, casting about for the word "umbrella"
she bent her head down, mortified by his behaviour
the more she inquired, the more reticent he grew
pithy manner
the facts of his life were something marvellous to behold
wouldn't suffice in describing her beauty
not wishing to be a specimen under her glass
couldnt have conceived of anything as nice as this room
the commonplace idea that girls were neater
freed from worrying about money, he studied fervently
his only relief from work
she was brilliant, sensual and creative
wondrous and fabled university
he admired their well-composed thoughts and points of view on the issues of the day
it thrilled him that he could read
imitate their mannerisms faultlessly
considered this nothing short of vulgar
he aped the working class
his mouth momentarily agape
puzzled by his irritation
he sputtered
some fanciful idea of a foreign person
she had condescended to be with someone everyone else hated
he walked rigidly and calmly
he looked at her with disdain
she couldn't say anything and her mouth was dry
he said quietly
imprudent
this life had too much loss
vowed to watch over them
the stupid heart could not help but hope
to live without forgiveness was a kind of death with breathing and movement
begrudge his generosity
placidity of the Japanese
slovenly habits
she turned to the darkened street. a half-moon was visible in the navy-coloured sky
he had been a steady source of strength for her when she had expected so little from this life
she smiled weakly at him
his days had made little sense to him
a place populated with gentle, benevolent Japanese
he recalled her childhood stories of
blanketed with fresh snow
renounced the spoils of the world
the thought of him saddened her
he would not return to Tokyo - this much he had resolved
he clasped his right hand over his mouth, embarrassed at being so forward
his round face grew serious
he clasped his thick meaty fingers over his head in a comic imitation of the anguished Takano-san
when he spoke, his velvety eyes were expressive and direct
genial
speak soberly and calmly
he worked methodically
in her quiet and deliberate way
stoic
so stalwart and clever
when sad, she had the face of a disappointed child, lost and bereft
her face showed every trace of feeling; she could be silent, but she was incapable of hiding herself from others
he asked, looking to her for the answer
she crinkled her eyes, worried
pay penance for having once cared about such things
virile-looking gentleman
petulant-niece routine
wrapping him in a kind of protective cloud
her wet, shining eyes blinked, lit up like lanterns. her young face shone through the old one.
she looked down at the large squares of concrete below her feet, unable to stop the flow of tears
if he was comfortable reminiscing in her kitchen, she was more than a little unsettled at the sight of him sitting at the breakfast table. from the moment she'd met him, she'd felt his presence all around her. he was an unwanted constant in her imagination.
it was easy to recall a time when
pegged him for a yakuza boss
the child made static sounds to announce the laser beams emitting from his left hand and held his fierce pose
a maze of filing cabinets and metal desks created a warren of office workers in the business offices
in the thicket of furniture
by any conventional measure
she possessed a distant manner, preventing ease or intimacy with those around her
dressed soberly in white blouses and inexpensive poly skirts requiring little maintenance
when she performed her tasks, she needed little guidance; she anticipated the needs of her employers faultlessly and executed the tasks without any reminders
worked assiduously
settled into a small, invisible life
he spent almost nothing on himself beyond what was absolutely necessary
render his family both destitute and tainted
dispense medication
neither had realised the loneliness each had lived with for such a long time until the loneliness was interrupted by genuine affection
it was easy to lose the affections of a husband to an ambitious bar hostess
effectively reproduced her own tribe
in no way did he see his current life as a rebirth
retreating further into herself
her expression was perpetually one of a small child who had been disappointed by her birthday present
his death had destroyed her cherished social ambitions
relinquish her wishes for her own child
worked in the sordid business, cementing her caste in life
overlook his background
docent
the castle started to list
the guide grew visibly impassioned by his own speech
policing him was a family effort
warrant a curse
he sobered at the thought of this
she managed the business ably
nursed her ailing mother-in-law
died after a great deal of suffering
his mother's death had been catastrophic for him
he assumed that her strict upbringing had much to do with her ability to forbear and endure
invariably, street dust and humidity would spoil that pure feeling that came from a bath
it was not yet dusk, and there was still a bluish light left over from the day
gingerly approached the dense cluster of trees
retreated quietly to the main path
out of practicality and habit
his rapturous face
she felt emboldened to move closer
her solitary presence
returned faithfully to her routines
she found her mind drifting
there was only a little light in the evening sky, only a small misshapen moon and the faintest spray of winter stars
his face folded with worry
unguarded and capable of expressing joy
her face downcast and meek
the handwriting was varied and inauthentic
throaty shouts of welcome from the obsequious staff felt like a reprieve from the painful silence in his head
avoid the overheated rush-hour train cars where it was okay to push but not okay to talk to strangers
detailed his life in a report
what was most notable was his unwavering need for routine
she smiled, feeling light and hopeful
She had maintained a youthful prettiness that she felt was important to being a restaurant owner. She wore her jet-coloured hair in a chignon style to set off her lively, egg-shaped face. From afar she could appear stern, but up close her face was animated, and her small, friendly eyes missed nothing.
She could almost see her large, unblinking eyes
He used to dismiss this idea of fate as a lazy explanation for the bad choices people made. Regardless, life had only confirmed her belief that there was indeed a pattern to it all.
Pachinko gave off a strong odor of poverty ad criminality
Worsened matters
What amazed her was how difficult it was the first time but how effortless it was to have all the others that followed
He bemoaned the fact that
His eyes pooled with tears as he told her that she was his heart
Maudlin and erotic poems
She privately marvelled at the effort they must have taken
It dawned on her then
He coughed in what seemed like politeness or discomfort and said it would be pointless
The penalties incurred for the mistakes you made had to be paid out in full to the members of your family. But she didn’t believe that she could ever discharge these sums.
His physical movements were deliberate and forceful, and she wanted to surrender to them
Her skin flushed with heat
She stared at the back of the driver’s gray-streaked head
Nodded thoughtfully
Their quiet gestures appeared intimate
A safe subject they could visit without subtext or aggression
Expect her children to hold the aspirations of other middle-class people
She was expecting no less of a reaction now, but he averted his eyes from the clerk
She flashed him a warning look
It was like you were cursed and nothing would ever restore the desolation of your life
She wanted to crawl out of the gray box and see the light of outdoors again. She longed for the white mountains of Hokkaido. And though she had never done so in her childhood, she wanted to walk in the cold, snowy forests beneath the flanks of dark, leafless trees. In life, there was so much insult and injury, and she had no choice but to collect what was hers. But now she wished to take his shame, too, and add it to her pile, though she was already overwhelmed.
Their mutual curiosity was obvious
The steady line of her lips crumpled, and she covered her manga-pretty face with her hands and began to cry
The worst is when we let those things define us by a lie—that somehow the world is bereft of any good, that we must never trust again, that we must retaliate first, that we owe others bitterness and contempt. The saddest thing is when every new face must pass a test designed to fail. It is a harsh internal whisper that says, "Never again, I'll show them."
Certain labors had sustained her
At this moment, with a kind of pinprick pain
She grew silent, utterly transfixed by the realisation that how she saw herself was actually how they saw her, too
Her numerous and repeated attempts
Despite everything, it struck her that what she was feeling was a kind of contentedness
She wished she could take back the times she had scolded them just because she was tired. There were so many errors. If life allowed revisions, she would let them stay in their bath a little longer, read them one more story before bed, and fix them another plate of shrimp.
He sounded wistful
Tinkered with the machines to fix the outcomes - there could only be a few winners and a lot of losers. And yet we played on, because we had hope that we might be the lucky ones. How could you get angry at the ones who wanted to be in the game? She had failed in this important way - she had not taught her children to hope, to believe in the perhaps-absurd possibility that they might win. Pachinko was a foolish game, but life was not.
His eyes strained with worry
She covered her mouth with her open palm and let his words go through her. Somewhere after being sorry, there had to be another day, and even after a conviction, there could be good in the judgement.
Her mind felt clearer and more free
Nevertheless, the unexpected dividend of this illness was that for the first time in her life, she felt no compulsion to labor.
How he was faring
She smiled broadly
A spry, ageless woman with dyed black hair
She was reputed to have Korean blood, and the rumour alone was enough for them to find her pluck and wanderlust relatable.
A disembodied male voice
Her voice was full of wonder and admiration
Her large, sloping eyes, buried beneath layers of crepey, folded skin, appeared wise and thoughtful
The camera panned to show the interior of the cavernous farm, a moving sea of white feathers comprised of tens of thousands of fluffy chickens; brilliant red combs streaked the pale, fluttering mass.
At her behest
Her stoicism was undeniable
A woman’s lot is to suffer
Heard this sentiment from others
Taught him to suffer the humiliation that she’d drunk like water
Did mothers fail by not telling their sons that suffering would come?
She blurted out, then immediately regretted doing so
She shrugged, almost in comic imitation of the woman farmer
She had been storing these specific thoughts in reserve for her
She looked at him imploringly, but the old woman seemed oblivious to her silent pleas
She tried to sound as soothing as possible
She crumpled visibly
Her mother was unrecognisable to her; it would have been easy to say that the illness had changed her, but it wasn’t so simple, was it? Illness and dying had revealed her mother’s truest thoughts, the ones her mother had been protecting her from.
How could you fight such hopeless ideas?
He tried to shush her politely, but as ever, she was persistent

sep 16 2019 ∞
jan 19 2020 +