Where do you come from?" I asked him."From San Carlos," he said, and smiled.
That was his native town and so it gave him pleasure to mention it and he smiled.
"I was taking care of animals," he explained."Oh," I said, not quite understanding."Yes," he said, "I stayed, you see, taking care of animals. I was the last one to leave the town of San Carlos."
He did not look like a shepherd nor a herdsman and I looked at his black dusty clothes and his gray dusty face and his steel rimmed spectacles and said, "What animals were they?""Various animals," he said, and shook his head. "I had to leave them."
I was watching the bridge and the African looking country of the Ebro Delta and wondering how long now it would be before we would see the enemy, and listening all the while for the first noises that would signal that ever mysterious event called contact, and the old man still sat there.
"What animals were they?" I asked. "There were three animals altogether," he explained. "There were two goats and a cat and then there were four pairs of pigeons."And you had to leave them?" I asked."Yes. Because of the artillery. The captain told me to go because of the artillery.""And you have no family?" I asked, watching the far end of the bridge where a few last carts were hurrying down the slope of the bank."No," he said, "only the animals I stated. The cat, of course, will be all right. A cat can look out for itself, but I cannot think what will become of the others.""What politics have you?" زبانسرای اوستا...
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برچسب : نویسنده : 0avesta13784 بازدید : 6 تاريخ : شنبه 15 بهمن 1401 ساعت: 22:16