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64 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 2019
“How tiny we are,” thought Binsu, looking up at the towering peaks and immensity of the sky. “Each one of us is no more than a raindrop...”
“Then, waving goodbye to his mother and sister, he set off down the road from the village.”
“Why are there no trees here?” he asked aloud.
“The hill station, with all its glitter, was just a pretty gift box with nothing inside.”
“He thought of the trees at home-the walnut, the chestnuts, the pines-and wondered of one day they would suffer the same fate, and whether the mountains would become a desert like this particular range. No trees, no grass, no water-only the chocking dust of mines and quarries.”
“It was a long walk to school. Down the hill, through the rhododendron trees and across a small stream, around a bare, brown hill, and then through the narrow little bazaar, past fruit stalls piled high with oranges, guavas, bananas, and apples.”
“But these were forbidden fruit. The boy hadn’t had the money for them.”
“There were patches of snow on the ground. The grass was a dirty brown, the bushes were bare. There was no wild fruit in November.”