She cried for fully five minutes. She cried without trying to suppress any of the noisier manifestations of grief and cunfusion, with all the convulsive throat sounds that a hysterical child makes hen the breath is trying to get up through a partially closed epiglottis. And yet, when she finally stopped, she merely stopped, without the painful, knife-like intakes of breath that usually follow a violent outburst-inburst.
[not sure why i copied down this passage above all others. pat copied down a different passage from it on the back of a photo of us, the one good one, which is now in my ‘don’t know what to do with’ box from kusadasi.]