Ana emerges from the shack with Fuga. His face is clean. His hair, the color of black crude oil, is parted on the side and slicked expertly back from his strong, architectural face. The turquoise suit of lights throws sparkles with each small movement. The man who looked like a murderer now looks like a matador.
In 1991, after fifty years of brutal occupation, the three Baltic countries regained their independence, peacefully and with dignity. They chose hope over hate and showed the world that even through the darkest night, there is light. These three tiny nations have taught us that love is the most powerful army. Whether love of a friend, love of country, love of God, or even love of enemy- love reveals to us the truly miraculous nature of the human spirit.
And Mother. I couldn’t erase the vision of her ghoulish face, the blood. I worried that something had happened to her on the road. I wished she’d write and then I wondered why. Things would be simpler without Mother in New Orleans, simpler without me wrapped in the shadows of her black heart and childish mind. But I wished I’d hear from her anyway.
Did you ever wonder what a human life is worth?
The truck stopped in front of the hospital. Everyone seemed relieved that they would tend to the bald man’s injuries. But they did not. They were waiting. A woman who was also on the list was giving birth to a baby. As soon as the umbilical cord was cut, they would both be thrown into the truck.
That was something the war couldn’t take from me either. The Nazis couldn’t stop the wind and the snow. The Russians couldn’t take the sun or the stars.
Focus your lens on the Spanish people,” Ben lifts his cigarette and points it at Daniel, “but don’t be stupid. There is a dark side here. Sure, they’re selling sunshine and castanets to the tourists. But that’s not all Franco’s selling. One wrong move and the police will be on you. You’ll be dead in a dirt pit.
The sweet girl in Madrid... It probably wouldn’t have worked. The divide was too wide. Memories are hungry, tesoro. You musn’t feed them. I’d hate to think that a teenage fling might leave you alone for the rest of your life.
Per aspera ad astra, Papa,” I whispered. Through hardship to the stars. It was a Latin phrase he used whenever I complained that something was difficult. Where was my father now?
Patrick wanted someone else. I wanted him to be happy, but why couldn’t he be happy with me? I knew the answer. He couldn’t choose me.
That’s what the letter from Ms. Mona Wright had said. I still had no idea what “Ms.” meant. I’d have to look it up in the practical business-writing handbook. It was obviously a title of some sort.
Right before you arrived, Mrs. Lefevre told us that she held a gun to her husband’s head in the bedroom last night because he smelled like Tabu.” Charlotte shook her head, whispering. “Mrs. Lefevre does not wear Tabu. But a gun? Can you imagine the insanity of that?” I shook my head, feeling the cold steel of my pistol against my leg under my skirt. Unfortunately, I knew that insanity all too well.
That sounded like something Mother would say, throwing color onto a black-and-white picture.
Was there a lot of carryin’ on in there?” asked Cokie. “I don’t know,” I said. “You don’t know?” said Patrick, turning around from the front seat. “Jo, they have a baby grand piano, but no one in the family plays. They have shelves of books they’ve never read, and the tension between the couples was so thick it nearly choked us.
Mileage doesn’t make the man.
I stood there, thinking about Dora’s question. What sort of a woman steals from her child?
Do others in Spain have ghosts in the attic of their mind? Do they try to face them as he does? The door to the attic creaks constantly, beckoning Rafa with a long, crooked finger back to his childhood. Back to the war.
There are colors of beauty in Madrid, but also colors of hardship. Ghosts of war walk the streets in Spain. Daniel passes blind lottery vendors, citizens missing limbs, young people using canes. Should he look directly at them and acknowledge their sacrifice or look away and honor their dignity?
History divided us, but through reading we can be united in story, study, and rememberance. Books join us together as a global reading community but more important a global human community striving to learn from the past.
Not at all,” I agreed. “For example, Patrick asked if I would rather marry Gatsby or Mr. Darcy.” “No, he didn’t! Who in the world would choose Gatsby over Darcy?” Charlotte caught on and turned to me. “Josephine – Ethan Frome or Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables?” “Oh, Ethan Frome,” I said quickly. “Out of pity,” said Charlotte, with an understanding nod. “A bit,” I agreed. “But Ethan Frome had a hidden depth, something waiting to be discovered.