Tololwa Marti


Our supreme lady, Memsahib Freda, was what you could call a goodnatured, kind-hearted soul, that is, if you chose to believe the stories that all who remember her would tell you. They would tell you many things. They would tell you, for instance, that when Memsahib smiled, as she so often did, you could hardly see the eyes for the wrinkles. So purely, like a baby, would she smile that you would nervously glance behind you to make sure that it was really at you that the smile was directed. Her face, they would tell you, would just crumble into a million lines that rushed in to seize her little face from all directions, making it look like the hide of some little animal, that somebody had folded and put aside to be thrown away sometime.



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