I have never been a violent man. Just a little creepy, it seems.
Tim Winton
The pig winks and rolls in the bog. He kicks his legs up and his trotters clack together. The sun is low over the neighbourhood. There is the smell of oncoming night, of pollen settling, the sounds of kids fighting bath time. Lester comes down, waving his hands. Don't drown the pig, Fish. We're saving him for Christmas! We're gonna eat him. No!I'll drink to that, says the pig. Lester stands there. He looks at Fish. He looks at the porker. He peeps over the fence. The pig. The flamin' pig. The pig has just spoken. It's no language that he can understand, but there's no doubt. He feels a little crook, like maybe he should go over to that tree and puke. I like him, Lestah. He talks?Yep. Oh, my gawd. Lester looks at his retarded son again and once more at the pig. The pig talks.I likes him. Yeah, I bet. The pig snuffles, lets off a few syllables: aka sembon itwa. It's tongues, that's what it is. A blasted Pentecostal pig. And you understand him?Yep. I likes him. Always the miracles you don't need. It's not a simple world, Fish. It's not.
funny life humour
life-experience
And though I've lived to be an old man with my very own share of happiness for all the mess I made, I still judge every joyous moment, every victory and revelation against those few seconds of living.
life reflection
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