Author : Joseph Conrad
To yesterday and to to-day I say my polite "vaya usted con Dios." What are these days to me? But that
far-off day of my romance, when from between the blue and white bales in Don Ramon's darkened
storeroom, at Kingston, I saw the door open before the figure of an old man with the tired, long, white face,
that day I am not likely to forget. I remember the chilly smell of the typical West Indian store, the
indescribable smell of damp gloom, of locos, of pimento, of olive oil, of new sugar, of new rum; the glassy
double sheen of Ramon's great spectacles, the piercing eyes in the mahogany face, while the tap, tap, tap of a
cane on the flags went on behind the inner door; the click of the latch; the stream of light. The door, petulantly
thrust inwards, struck against some barrels.
This book is in .htm format.
Copyright © 2000-2005 Pitbook.com