l who have lived here for so long I cannot remember my home of olive trees and brown valleys, and when a letter comes from my brother in Tuscany it seems like a hoarse whisper from another planet. I who have prayed with the pious and the wicked and helped the dusty children with their torn books -when I think of this story I want to weep. And there are things I do not come near to understanding unless I turn to Almighty God and the Blessed Virgin and I know as I say Mass chewing the Zulu with my Italian accent, that there are strange powers I do not seek to grasp. It is Faith that matters.
Gunner, Liz, Blood, Kunapipi, 21(3), 1999.