Our Endless Numbered Days: A Novel - Plot & Excerpts
I forgot all about Oliver Hannington, the argument and the smashed glasshouse. But I was tired of walking and bored of how all the meadows and forests merged into one long deer track. Already I couldn’t remember if we had camped for two nights or three after we got off the bus. Now, we were walking downhill, using the edge of the trees to take us into the valley. My stomach was hollow, and under my rucksack my shirt stuck to my back. My legs were so heavy they might have been lumps of stone. From inside my bag, Phyllis said, “I wonder if die Hütte is actually real. Do you think there is a Fluss so full of fish they can jump straight out of the water into our outstretched arms?” “Of course there is,” I said. I let the song come back to me, singing it loudly to drown out her voice. And even though he was ahead, my father joined in, clear and bold: And I told him that I will, oh alaya bakia, When the river runs uphill, oh alaya bakia, And when fish begin to fly, oh alaya bakia, Or the day before I die, oh alaya bakia.
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