Capitolo 35
the superior atmosphere, developing everywhere behind him a cloud; and
toward sunset out of this cloud down on the snow of Shield it started to
fall. Not the great bows bathed in which come down too late sometimes
spring on the gems of orchards of apple; neither those mournfullers one
what they allow to fall too soon on wild and weak violets in woods of November but winter
it snows, austere sculptor of the Arctic loneliness.
* * * * *
It was Eve of Christmas. It was snowing all on the Shield.
Slightly snow fell on the imprints of the year and paths of
children and on scholastic buildings now closed and it rebelliously abandoned. More
slightly on too crowded kindergartens for them: houses of the obscurity of midday
where it eagerly looks you look out at the windows but he/she doesn't see; houses of
soundlessness where ears listen and don't feel noise; houses of
silence where lips try to speak but not to send forth word.
The snow of Eve of Christmas was slightly falling on the old one: of who eyes
you/he/she is always seeing enfeebled faces whose ears feel bawls kinder than
some earth now knows which gives forever you try to reach the other hands
kept vainly out to them. Sad, sad to those that you/they remember one beloved
gone with their kindnesses the snow of Eve of Christmas!
But sadder still for those on that they live together after kindnesseses have
stopped, or of who love went as a wind in summer. Sad it is Eve of Christmas to
them! Dark his/her snow and blinding!
* * * * *
It was late that night.
You entered the living room, while hooking the bowl of a shaded lamp--the only one
turns on in the room. His/her face, always calm in the wisdom of the life, but
now shaken by the tide of deep things that you/they quickly enter toward her,
been clear on the obscurity.
You put the lamp on a table near the door and he made to sit close to
it. But she unconsciously pushed away the lamp as if the light of
the house is not its light anymore; and she sat on the chair as if