But comfort me, my love, now the fires are low,
Now I am broken to earth like a winter destroyed, and all
Myself but a knowledge of roots, of roots in the dark that throw
A net on the undersoil, which lies passive beneath their thrall.
I tried to breathe, but it was too late. Momzilla had emerged. I could feel her low rumbling growl as she straightened up that last nerve. … Momzilla heard the children in the background promising never to be clowns again if Mommy would just come back. Momzilla took a slow deep breath, and then another. As Momzilla returned to the cage that I keep her in, I noticed how cute my little clowns were.
We anchored for the night at Pai-sha, a rowdy little place, where they talked of killing us, situated at the point of junction with our stream of a northern tributary, navigable almost to Kuei-lin, the capital of this province.
Concerned for Diane's well-being, he mother-henned her constantly.
