But the biggest clue seemed to be their expressions. They were hard to explain. Good-natured, friendly, easygoing...and uninvolved. They were like spectators. You had the feeling they had just wandered in there themselves and somebody had handed them a wrench. There was no identification with the job. No saying, "I am a mechanic." At 5 P.M. or whenever their eight hours were in, you knew they would cut it off and not have another thought about their work. They were already trying not to have any thoughts about their work on the job.
At the time, however, I didn't realize the extent of my granddaughter's sensitivity - or her loneliness. I thought only of myself. Of my own sensitivity and my own loneliness.
Peregrine Island
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At the time, however, I didn't realize the extent of my granddaughter's sensitivity - or her loneliness. I thought only of myself. Of my own sensitivity and my own loneliness.
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