I don’t like snakes—never have, never will. What am I doing, going to where people pick them up and wave them around? Nasty, slimy snakes. Nasty, slimy, poisonous snakes. In church, of all places. And Birdie setting there just as calm … Dorothy’s Ford swung through a dizzying series of switchbacks that she negotiated almost unconsciously. Her mind was elsewhere. Poisonous snakes. Poisonous snakes in church … Whyever I had to go and ask Birdie … The tires shuddered as they hit loose gravel on the shoulder, and Dorothy, averting her eyes from the steep drop-off, guided the car back onto the pavement. “Belvy belongs to a Signs-Following Holiness Church,” Miss Birdie had explained as they had set out for the drive through Hot Springs into Cocke County. “They go by a verse in the Bible …” and Birdie had begun to leaf through the well-worn book that rested on her lap. “Hit’s in Mark …” The wrinkled old hands had made their familiar way through the pages. “… right here at the sixteenth verse.
What do You think about The Day Of Small Things (2010)?
