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How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.
> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
What a lovely glimpse of your creative, unique child. I love these.
ReplyDeleteClaire
Patty
ReplyDeleteI have not seen this post before. Such an elegant writer. Today is the birthday of lovely EG. So missed by all.
When I look at these pages I remember talking to Nick and asking him what to buy for Lizzie for Christmas and he suggested pens as she loved to write. Off I went on a search for the perfect pen(s). Found them and only hope she wrote these with the special pens.
XXOOOOO
ME