"I bent and made my arm into a stalk growing from the ground. I opened my fingers to sniff the petals of an imaginary flower. He let out a small shout of laughter and grabbed my hand and pressed it against his head. I think he meant that I had understood that he had been miming the coming of spring.
Before we left that evening, the children sang for us. Their faces were flushed with the pleasure of performing. At our departure, they crowded around the great entrance doors of the house, stunted little weeping figures. They stood quietly while we walked down the cleared path to our little bus. But as we drove away, we saw them waving vigorously, to wish us a safe journey."
~ Paula Fox
"Children of the Tatras"
The Coldest Winter: A Stringer in Liberated Europe
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/106394.The_Coldest_Winter
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