| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
'It is a good story, although I cannot say it is true. Like most stories I suppose there is some truth in it, but the absence of truth does not diminish the story, does it? ' In late autumn, Kitten, so named by a girl he met long ago, sits and remembers an aching adolescence; not of lost love and romance, but of wild and unbound joys and sorrows. And of those enduring friendships that linger at the periphery, that come with the hope that one day everything will return to what it once was. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||