Oh God, what if my name isn’t there? I do not want to be anybody’s maid or washerwoman. I do not want to scrub white people’s floors. Mother has always warned me and Vera that we should never do such demeaning jobs. I must pass this exam. It is my passport out of this stifling village, my ticket to freedom where I can breathe air without being watched, my ticket to a prosperous future. Oh please, please, let my name be there!
Once I Lived Vicariously Through Books
I can still smell the white gardenias of Sardinia and envision the winding staircase of a mansion in Somerset. Oh, to be young again! What is inexplicable today, is that I dislike romance novels, though they once opened up my imagination to the world as a teenager.