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She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. . He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. As for the patient, his decision was immediate. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 23:16:43
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