It was during his term in the city of the North State. Things were different, more urban. Where there should be fields of grains and produce, there were concrete pathways to a closely clubbed community that was seemingly overcrowded.
Houses seemed as if duplicated from the other. Homesickness was inevitable. It was as if a fresh water fish was thrown into the polluted sea.
A recurring dream occurred to him within the first two weeks.
The village – a highway road – cars passing by – a picturesque sky above – the beach and the sea – a dog chasing something by the edge of the waves – a lady walking much further from where he stood and then it was all black.
At this disturbing time in his life, he met a beautiful young lady. It was a chance encounter. She was kind and dearly loved the people around her. It didn’t take long for him to be a part of the young lady’s life. In her company, he wouldn’t feel homesick and the dreams stopped.
The young lady saw a lot of death. It was her job; she was a nurse. In a couple of months the milkman lost her. Not in body or life, but in spirit. By loving everyone so dearly, she made them a part of her life, and when they would die, so would a part of her life.
– Milkman 1985