I Love Borders. August Is The Border

My Bag Was As Light As My Happy-go-lucky Heart.

Most Of The People Are Homesick Anyway, And A Little Lonely, And They Hide Themselves In Their Hair And Are Turned Into Flowers.

They Were Always Doing Something. Quietly, Without Interruption, And With Great Concentration, They Carried On With The Hundred-and-one Small Things That Made Up Their World.

All Things Are So Very Uncertain, And That's Exactly What Makes Me Feel Reassured.

A Very Long Time Ago, Grandmother Had Wanted To Tell About All The Things They Did, But No One Had Bothered To Ask. And Now She Had Lost The Urge.