Unknown Story
Montāžas Teksta
- One cold Christmas eve, a small boy stood among the tombstones in a lonely churchyard.
- It was a bleak, windswept place overlooking the Kentish marches that stretched away, flat and sad, towards the River Thames.
- I was the small boy - named Philip Pirip after my father, but always known as Pip. That afternoon was to shape of the rest.
- My parents died when I was very young, so I had no memory of them. My idea of what they were like - square and stiff or thin and curly was taken from the words on their grave.
- PHILIP PIRRIPLATE OF THIS PARISH
- The sky was darkening and the wind rose. The loneliness of the place grew suddenly so frightening that I began to cry.
- PHILIP PIRRIPLATE OF THIS PARISH
- just then...
- Hold your noise! keep still
- O! Sir!
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