“It’s enough now, my darling Ove.” And then it was enough.
The next morning Ove got up at dawn, drove the Saab to her school,
and with his own bare hands built the disabled ramp the council was refusing to put up.
And after that she came home every evening for as long as Ove could remember and told him, with fire in her eyes, about her boys and girls.
The ones who arrived in the classroom with police escorts yet when they left could recite four-hundred-year-old poetry.
The ones who could make her cry and laugh and sing until her voice was bouncing off the ceilings of their little house.
Ove could never make head nor tail of those impossible kids, but he was not beyond liking them for what they did to Sonja.
Every human being needs to know what she’s fighting for. That was what they said. And she fought for what was good.
For the children she never had. And Ove fought for her. Because that was the only thing in this world he really knew.
A MAN CALLED OVE AND A BRAT WHO DRAWS IN COLOR
The Saab is so full of people when Ove drives away from the hospital that he keeps checking the fuel gauge,
as if he’s afraid that it’s going to break into a scornful dance.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색