Chapter 9 Talk about war and colonization (1)

2. Talk about war and colonization I did not go to school, as mentioned in the opening remarks.That's not entirely accurate.In fact, it's just that my study period was fixed on the primary school diploma.I was careful not to draw attention to myself until I finished school - I knew my primary school teacher, Mr Selwyn, had taken a liking to me ever since he discovered that I was devouring his writings on war and colonization. Doubt, for which I was once terrified, when I was not yet ten years old. Why?I have no idea.Do you really believe that I should have finished my studies?This can only be left to a wizard who knows the ancient divination to answer.A good-for-nothing girl like me, struggling in a world of rich people, without beauty or loveliness, without glory or ambition, without beauty or talent, and lost before I even tried Come.I just long for one thing: that someone else will allow me to live this life in peace, not to be too hard on me, and besides, that I can spend some time every day and be able to satisfy my hunger and thirst to my heart's content, that's enough.

For those who have never experienced hunger and thirst, the scars of the first hunger and thirst are as painful as they are enlightening.I was an unresponsive, almost disabled kid, with my back arched like a little old man.I can go on living because I don't know that there is another way.Without hobbies, I'm in a vacuum: nothing interests me, nothing wakes my attention.I am small and imbecile, swaying with the unpredictable tide, I don't even have the desire of this life. In our house, there is a lack of communication between the family members, the kids are constantly yelling, and the adults are busy with their work.We have enough food to fill our stomachs, we have not been ill-treated, our clothes are old and shabby but clean, and rough repaired are still strong, so we are not hungry or cold even if we are sometimes ashamed Pass.But we never mentioned it in front of others.

I opened it when I was five years old, the first year I went to elementary school. On that day, I was surprised and horrified to hear a voice speaking to me, and it was still calling my name. "Reni?" I heard the voice ask, and I felt a friendly hand on mine. It was the first day of school, and because of the rain, the children gathered in the hallway. "Reni?" The voice from above continued in cadence, and the friendly hands kept touching my arms—an incomprehensible language—a softness. A gentle feeling. I lifted my head, making eye contact with a woman with this peculiar movement that nearly fainted me.

Renee.That's calling me.This is the first time someone has spoken to me by my name.My parents communicated with me with gestures or growls, and this woman called me by name and joined me in an intimacy I hadn't experienced before.At that time, I took a closer look at her clear eyes and smiling lips, and since then, she has entered my heart.I looked at the colorful world around me, and for a moment of pain, I saw the rain beating on the windows outside, I smelled damp clothes, I felt the narrow and crowded corridors.The aisles were full of noisy children.Coat racks piled high with shabby woolen cloaks on patinaed brass handles--and a high ceiling--to a child's eyes, the ceiling was as high as the sky.I stared blankly into hers, clung to the girl who had brought me back to life.