The Twyborn Affair Page 46
Sitting in the garden drying our hair together amongst the bulbuls and drizzle of taps we shall experience harmony at last.
She loved the birds. As she dried her hair and waited, a bulbul was perched on the rim of the stone bird-bath, dipping his beak. Ruffling his feathers, he cocked his head at her, shook his little velvet jester’s cap, and raised his beak towards the sun.
