A Tale for Tomorrow

A woman with reddish hair and pale skin, and a strong frame, had sat forward onto the edge of her bed and had counted: twenty-nine, there were twenty-nine of them. One could note, in one angle of the room, that several more beds had been piled and fitted one atop the other - should there have been more of them? None of them, however, was inclined to such pondering, for each one of them felt that, whatever its duration or even its external cause, this experience they were living deserved to be, or even demanded to be approached in the silence of the thought and with respect for what it was meant to offer. The same woman then stood at the head of her bed and, with a clear and melodious voice, firm and direct, announced that she had found there was all that was required in the kitchen hall to cook a good nourishing soup for all and, if two or three of them would accompany her and tend to the faggots and start one o the stoves and take up the cutting of the shallots, she believed she could fill up a large pot with a rich and well-seasoned soup of chick-peas and lentils and, if some others would care to collect enough utensils and flatware, one could then elect the best site for their first meals- but in her view it would be more comfortable, this first evening, to bring it all into their common room… It took a moment of surprise to assimilate the practicality of her words and then they all made their contentment known and several of them stood up to follow her.

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