In the morning she found pieces of a birdchopped and scattered by the fanblood sprayed onto the mosquito net, its body leaving paths on the wallslike red snails that drifted down in lumps. She could imagine the featherswhile she had sleptfalling around herlike slow rain.
Michael OndaatjeAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: canadian
- Born: September 12, 1943