“Most, so fast are things changing, no longer exist. Most are not to be regretted. The house I would have been pleased to see go was still there. In it, for over a year, I was very unhappy. I have since learned to distinguish between unhappiness which is simply temperamental, and has to be suffered through, like an attack of flu; and the unhappiness caused by circumstances. At that time I could not distinguish between them. I was dumbly, hopelessly unhappy; I could not believe I would ever have ...a hopeful thought or feeling again. It was therefore salutary to go and look at the small brick house, in its garden, warm in the sunlight, with children playing on the verandah. It was hard to identify it as the same place, indeed. A year is a long time to waste in being unhappy; a year is a good part of one’s life. IN TIME OF DRYNESS There is no dryness like this drought. Thin flesh burns, skin cracks, lips strain. A dull drum tom-toms in the brain, Low thudding rising to a shout: There have been years that no rain knew, And skulls lay bleaching in the dust That rose and clung like thickening rust On everything that lived and grew.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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