Why would he only want her as the same hurt bird? What if she wasn’t a bird or a bird that wasn’t hurt or a hurt bird that wasn’t the same one as he fi rst met? Was his love for her merely a pathetic way to heal the old wounds from his past of being a friendless orphan? Would it be possible that a wounded man could feel stronger by cherishing a weak woman beaten by another man?
Carrying a head of these evocative thoughts, I switched off the light. But the aunt said, “Turn it back on. Let me show you something.”