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Kindle Notes & Highlights
He opened his hand and looked at it. Dried blood sifted in a fine dust from the lines of his palm. After a while he went in and poured water into the tin basin and began to wash his hands and his arms, slowly and with care.
His destiny is writ in blood
He opened his hand and looked at it. Dried blood sifted in a fine dust from the lines of his palm. After a while he went in and poured water into the tin basin and began to wash his hands and his arms, slowly and with care.
And like Pilate he tries to wash his hands of the guilt
The child slept too, his old man’s face flushed and wrinkled, small fingers clenched.
"The child as the father of the man" here just a passing allusion, later stated directly in B.M.
