The light was fading quickly now, but there was enough to see the things they wanted to see—the progress of the next crop of beans, the state of the Namaqualand daisies that Mma Ramotswe had recently planted along the side of the house, the new shrubs put in by the mopipi tree. There was also enough light, Mma Ramotswe reflected, to see the world was not always a place of pain and loss, but a place where our simple human affairs—those matters that for all their pettiness still sometimes confounded us—were not insoluble, were not without the possibility of resolution. She held her husband’s hand. No further words were exchanged, or needed.—Alexander McCall Smith, The Handsome Man’s De Luxe Café
The light was fading quickly now, but there was enough to see the things they wanted to see—the progress of the next crop of beans, the state of the Namaqualand daisies that Mma Ramotswe had recently planted along the side of the house, the new shrubs put in by the mopipi tree. There was also enough light, Mma Ramotswe reflected, to see the world was not always a place of pain and loss, but a place where our simple human affairs—those matters that for all their pettiness still sometimes confounded us—were not insoluble, were not without the possibility of resolution. She held her husband’s hand. No further words were exchanged, or needed.—Alexander McCall Smith, The Handsome Man’s De Luxe Café