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She will not confide in me. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. But this chap is good wine yet.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 14:49:09
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