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The Weekend Australian - Travel - - Travel & Indulgence -

‘When she goes to the city she leaves me loung­ing in the swing un­der­neath the oak tree. She vi­su­alises me as a shadow, as her car zooms around the curves that take her rapidly down the moun­tain. She is lis­ten­ing to a mu­sic I have not heard in many years. At first I think it is Por­tuguese fado; then I re­alise it is fla­menco, which is also char­ac­terised by pas­sion and pro­found sad­ness. She moans along with the woman who is singing — wail­ing, re­ally — her hands grip­ping the steer­ing wheel to the plan­gent cries of the singer and the sob­bing of vi­o­lins. The mo­men­tum of her flight sets the old swing to rock­ing. Her car is old and black. It was another ex­pres­sion of my ef­fort to con­tact her.’

ALICE WALKER

BY THE LIGHT OF MY FA­THER’S SMILE (1998)

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