large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb_42
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
English
506
Day came  a gray day and no sun. It had ceased raining. The keenness of his hunger had departed. Sensibility, as far as concerned the yearning for food, had been exhausted. DAY CAME A GREY DAY AND NO SUN IT HAD CEASED RAINING THE KEENNESS OF HIS HUNGER HAD DEPARTED SENSIBILITY AS FAR AS CONCERNED THE YEARNING FOR FOOD HAD BEEN EXHAUSTED
 fell, covering the ground, putting out the fire, spoiling his supply of moss-fuel. This was a signal for him to strap on his pack and stumble onward, he knew not where. He was not concerned with the land of little sticks, nor with Bill and the cache under the upturned canoe by the river Dease. He was mastered by the verb "to eat." He was hunger-mad. He took no heed of the course he pursued, so long as that course led him through the swale bottoms. He felt his way through the wet snow to the watery muskeg berries, and went by feel as he pulled up the rush-grass by the roots. But it was tasteless stuff and did not satisfy. He found a weed that tasted sour and he ate all he could find of it, which was not much, for it was a creeping growth, easily hidden under the several inches of snow. He had no fire that night, nor hot water, and crawled under his blanket to sleep the broken hunger-sleep. The snow turned into a cold rain. He awakened many times to feel it falling on his upturned face. CT WITH THE EARTH BUT EVERMORE FELL COVERING THE GROUND PUTTING OUT THE FIRE SPOILING A SUPPLY OF MOSS FUEL THIS WAS A SIGNAL FOR HIM TO STRAP ON HIS PACK AND STUMBLE ONWARD HE KNEW NOT WHERE HE WAS NOT CONCERNED WITH THE LAND OF LITTLE STICKS NOR WITH BILL AND THE CASH UNDER THE UPTURNED CANOE BY THE RIVER DESE HE WAS MASTERED BY THE VERB TO EAT HE WAS HUNGER MAD HE TOOK NO HEED OF THE COURSE HE PURSUED SO LONG AS THAT COURSE LED HIM THROUGH THE SWALE BOTTOMS HE FELT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WET SNOW TO THE WATERY MUSKEG BERRIES AND WENT BY FEEL AS HE PULLED UP THE RUSH GRASS BY THE ROOTS BUT IT WAS TASTELESS STUFF AND DID NOT SATISFY HE FOUND A WEED THAT TASTED SOUR AND HE ATE ALL HE COULD FIND OF IT WHICH WAS NOT MUCH FOR IT WAS A CREEPING GROWTH EASILY HIDDEN UNDER THE SEVERAL INCHES OF SNOW HE HAD NO FIRE THAT NIGHT NOR HOT WATER AND CRAWLED UNDER HIS BLANKET TO SLEEP THE BROKEN HUNGER SLEEP THE SNOW TURNED INTO A COLD RAIN HE AWAKENED MANY TIMES TO FEEL IT FALLING ON HIS UPTURNED FACE
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
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download/librilight/large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb.flac