I don’t sympathise with a restless adversary trying to justify his heinous act. But I can’t deny it is opening up another perspective, Maybe he tried to help….
And then that letter is placed in my hands – to prove that he tried his best. It is worded cryptically, and as I move towards the end, the words get washed away by a shower of unexpected rain.
I don’t wake up with a start, but realise somewhere inside that dream, that it is a dream. There’s no need to read ahead.
It is a strong signal from the subconscious to leave the past behind and move ahead. The story has been washed away by time.
What kind of rain was that? Tears? No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
I will carve out a bright future.
No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
–Zora Neale Hurston, from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow (1928)