“… on the top of this big white hill in Argentina“, Lorrie says to Claude, “I was breathing deeply. In and out. Big gusts of freezing cold air. My whole body was warm and I didn’t feel the cold at all …“
When Lorrie’s mind is in Argentina, then Claude’s is in Belgium. The day the Germans arrived in Brussels he could hear the bombing. He asked his mother what the noise was, and she replied it was some men working on a garage next door. They fled through France, Spain, Portugal, arriving aboard a Japanese boat – we weren’t yet at war with them.
“… stopped at the bottom of the hill with just a bloody stump for a neck and both arms broken and both legs. It’s true.“
“The American suburbs are a lousy place to raise a child. The illusion of eternal safety and universal happiness is pernicious. That’s true too, Lorrie.“
“What are you saying?“