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المؤلف : Sue Monk Kidd
التصنيف : كتب منوعة
سنة النشر : 2002
عدد الصفحات : غير محدد
عن الكتاب : 2002م - 1443هـ The Secret Life of Bees t night I would lie in bed and watch the show, how bees ueezed through the cracks of my bedroomwalland flew circles around the room, making that propeller sound, a high-pitched zzzzzzthat hummed alongmy skin. I watched their wings shining like bits ofchromein the dark and felt thelonging build inmy chest. The way those bees flew, noteven looking foraflower, just flying for thefeel ofthe wind, splitmy heart down its seam. During the day I heard themtunneling through the walls of my bedroom, sounding like a radio tuned to static in the next room, and I imagined themin there turning the walls into honeycombs, with honey seeping out for me to taste. The bees came the summer of 1964, the summer I turned fourteen and my life went spinning off into a whole new orbit, and I mean whole new orbit. Looking back on now, I want to say the bees weresent to me. I want to say they showed up liketheangelGabrielappearing to the VirginMary, setting events inmotion Icould never have guessed. I knowit is presumptuous to compare my small lifeto hers, but I havereason to believeshe wouldn’t mind; I will get to that. Right nowit’senough to say that despiteeverything that happened thatsummer, I remain tender toward the bees. July 1, 1964, I lay in bed, waiting for the bees to showup, thinking ofwhat Rosaleen had said when I told herabout their nightly visitations. ‘Bees swarmbefore death,’she’d said. Rosaleen had worked for us since mymother died. .
وصف كتاب The Secret Life of Bees
2002م - 1443هـ The Secret Life of Bees t night I would lie in bed and watch the show, how bees ueezed through the cracks of my bedroomwalland flew circles around the room, making that propeller sound, a high-pitched zzzzzzthat hummed alongmy skin. I watched their wings shining like bits ofchromein the dark and felt thelonging build inmy chest. The way those bees flew, noteven looking foraflower, just flying for thefeel ofthe wind, splitmy heart down its seam. During the day I heard themtunneling through the walls of my bedroom, sounding like a radio tuned to static in the next room, and I imagined themin there turning the walls into honeycombs, with honey seeping out for me to taste. The bees came the summer of 1964, the summer I turned fourteen and my life went spinning off into a whole new orbit, and I mean whole new orbit. Looking back on now, I want to say the bees weresent to me. I want to say they showed up liketheangelGabrielappearing to the VirginMary, setting events inmotion Icould never have guessed. I knowit is presumptuous to compare my small lifeto hers, but I havereason to believeshe wouldn’t mind; I will get to that. Right nowit’senough to say that despiteeverything that happened thatsummer, I remain tender toward the bees. July 1, 1964, I lay in bed, waiting for the bees to showup, thinking ofwhat Rosaleen had said when I told herabout their nightly visitations. ‘Bees swarmbefore death,’she’d said. Rosaleen had worked for us since mymother died. .
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