The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. ‘Why, that’s it. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. Good-bye. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy.
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