When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. I do swear. I know how bad it feels. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements.
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This video was uploaded to jiiney.com on 05-06-2024 13:35:53
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