Section 62 is feverish
Vernon waved his white handkerchief vigorously and became aware that it was pulling away from him and turning into a dove. In its beak it held a fresh olive shoot. It flew falteringly in an arc over to the majestic ocean-going liner docked at the quayside and alighted on the polished rails. Straining his neck to do so, Vernon saw that many of the passengers were familiar; members of the school common room, church friends, karate mates, family, and rather disturbingly, a juvenile Freud holding the hand of a paternal Jung. Just then Vernon’s phone vibrated; he opened the mobile and read the text.
“Hi its Lindsy. Fmily nd frnds al abord. Yr mum sys hi nd so ds Nsansa. Shp is crowded with al th animls 2by2 bt thr wil b plnty v rm in Africa. Shme u decided not2 com. Hp u wnt be lonely”
What utter nonsense, find more at…