Weather and bombs
Apr 03, 2022
2 minutes
CHARLOTTE GRIMSHAW
Auckland, a golden late summer. Every morning, I pull up the blind and utter that classic line from the movie White Mischief, “Not another f--king beautiful day.”
The sun goes on shining as I work and walk the dog in the heat, and listen to news of the latest horror from Ukraine. The land around the mangroves has, a short story by Janet Frame set during the polio pandemic that my mother recalls as a time of childhood freedom. It was a drought-stricken summer when schools were closed to avoid the danger of infantile paralysis.
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