Reflections on home and the Catholic imagination
by Tina Beattie
I want to begin by evoking an image of childhood. The place is Lusaka in the early 1960s. A little girl, maybe eight or nine years old, sits cross-legged on a red polished cement floor in a corner of a living room with bookshelves lining the walls behind her. She’s hidden behind a Parker Knoll chair.
Login or subscribe below to continue reading this article