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“I had left the cellar filled with ardent hope. A child had died there. She began life again as an adult. I wanted someone else to be glad I was alive. But men were interested in no one but themselves, and the sun caressed my thin arms and pale face with as much indifference as if I had been a blade of grass.” — Christine Arnothy
I had left the cellar filled with ardent hope. A child had died there. She began life again as an adult. I wanted someone else to be glad I was alive. But men were interested in no one but themselves, and the sun caressed my thin arms and pale face with as much indifference as if I had been a blade of grass.