For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and moon seem taken from us. Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey and niggard. It is always twilight in one's cell, as it is always twilight in one's heart. And in the sphere of thought, no less than in the sphere of time, motion is no more. The thing that you personally have long ago forgotten, or can easily forget, is happening to me now, and will happen to me again to-morrow. Remember this, and you will be able to understand a little of why I am writing, and in this manner writing. . . . A week later, I am transferred here. Three more months go over and my mother dies. No one knew how deeply I loved and honoured her.

Medie	Bøger Paperback Bog (Bog med blødt omslag og limet ryg)
Udgivet	16. marts 2017
ISBN13	9781544611402
Forlag	Createspace Independent Publishing Platf
Antal sider	42
Mål	152 × 229 × 2 mm · 68 g
Sprog	Engelsk

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