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Hally is reminiscing about his childhood, when his mother ran the
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Start:
It started off looking like another of those useless nothing-to-do afternoons. I’d already been down to Main Street looking for adventure, but nothing happened. I didn’t feel like climbing trees in the Donkin Park or pretending I was a private and following a stranger …
[... … ...]
End:
When we left the boarding house to go up onto the hill, I was praying quietly that there wouldn’t be any other kids around to laugh at us.
Athol Fugard, “MASTER HAROLD” … and the boys, Vintage Books, 2009, pp.28-29.
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