Reading good short story (play) after a long time.
a child discussing a distant hill with his uncle:
” Uncle, do you think it is meant to prevent your crossing over? It seems to me because the earth can’t speak it raises its hands into the sky and beckons. And those who live far and sit alone by their windows can see the signal. But I suppose the learned people–“
I can’t help but wonder how beautiful the original Bengali is. Translation typically does not do justice to prose poetry.