But be more careful of the goat that lives in the lion’s den. —AFRICAN PROVERB Ever since the hunter arrived, the days have gone by, dense but empty like the clouds in winter. During this whole time, I have remained shut away, a prisoner in my own home, peeping out at the failed preparations for the hunting expeditions. I heard my father’s footsteps echoing through the early hours of the morning and the noise of the jeep would have me throwing myself at the window to get a glimpse of Archie Bullseye. Little by little, though, my interest in my beloved began to fade. Why didn’t he send me some sign that he might be interested in seeing me again? There was only one true answer: I had died as far as he was concerned. There was no point in prolonging the illusion. It was this profound deception that made me give up. I no longer wanted to escape from the house; I could forgo a meeting with the hunter. I could do without the river, travel, dreams. * * * I wasn’t the only one disappointed in Archie Bullseye.
What do You think about Confession Of The Lioness?
