Athol Fugard -

"Why do you stay?" Pieter asked, his city-voice finally cracking. "The world has moved on. The laws have changed, the maps have changed, but you sit here in the dust."

They were waiting for the bus from Port Elizabeth. It was the same bus that had taken their youth away and was now, supposedly, bringing a piece of it back. Hennie’s grandson, a boy who had learned to speak in the sharp, polished tones of the city, was arriving to "settle the estate"—a polite way of saying he was going to sell the land and bury the memories. athol fugard

Hennie didn't stand. He just pointed to the dirt at the boy's feet. "You’ve forgotten how to walk on this earth, Pieter. You’re stepping too light. The wind will blow you away." "Why do you stay

Elias sat on an upturned crate outside the general dealer, his fingers dancing over a piece of scrap wood. He was whittling a bird—a swallow that would never fly. Beside him, Hennie, a man whose skin was a map of seventy years of South African sun, watched the horizon. It was the same bus that had taken