One of my Sunday morning ordeals is having to lie in bed and look at Dussel's back when he's praying.
I know it sounds strange, but a praying Dussel is a terrible sight to behold.
It's not that he cries or gets sentimental, not at all,
but he does spend a quarter of an hour -- an entire fifteen minutes -- rocking from his toes to his heels.
Back and forth, back and forth. It goes on forever, and if I don't shut my eyes tight, my head starts to spin.
Ten-fifteen. The van Daans whistle; the bathroom's free.
In the Frank family quarters, the first sleepy faces are beginning to emerge from their pillows.
Then everything happens fast, fast, fast. Margot and I take turns doing the laundry.
Since it's quite cold downstairs, we put on pants and head scarves.
Meanwhile, Father is busy in the bathroom. Either Margot or I have a turn in the bathroom at eleven, and then we're all clean.
Eleven-thirty. Breakfast. I won't dwell on this, since there's enough talk about food without my bringing the subject up as well.
Twelve-fifteen. We each go our separate ways.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색