![]() They had been planning their outing for weeks, as had Amma. He wore his suit, waistcoat, tweed cap and trimmed his moustache. His mother excited, his father acquiescent. He has sworn with his hand over his heart and his eyes screwed shut into darkness that he will not speak of it to his parents. He knows that he is privileged to see these secret things, to hear these secret stories. His heart beats quickly, and he looks over his shoulder, checking, making certain they are alone. He watches wide-eyed as the events take place. ![]() Amma works her magic with fingers, hands, bits of string, leaves and stiffened paper. The shapes take place on the wall in the flickering light. The fire is warm and the room in redolent with the sweet marshy earthiness of burning peat. Amma’s undulating dulcet tones provide the narrative, and the flickering flame from the peat fire breathe life to the shadows as the stories unfold. The light from the fire flutters across the wall. She has practised and rehearsed the scenes in her mind and now it’s show time. ![]() ![]() She has a basket filled with bits of paper, leaves, feathers, twigs, shapes and figures. The characters and action are painted in shadow. The story takes place on a white-stuccoed wall. ![]()
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