I imagined the sound of whips on black backs and the roar of the overseer over the cry of mothers being separated from their babies. I pulled on all the strength I had not to shot out every valuable leaded pane of glass in that stinking house.
Linda Leigh Hargrove
I imagined the sound of whips on black backs and the roar of the overseer over the cry of mothers being separated from their babies. I pulled on all the strength I had not to shot out every valuable leaded pane of glass in that stinking house.