Explore "The Atom Station" by Halldór Laxness on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Of course this favorite of fortune was in a good mood. He was working on his flowers, with sleeves rolled up to the elbow and earth on his hands, planting roses, thinning, snipping off withered leaves, weeding, preparing the ground for winter. Various plants were still well in bloom, including a few of the roses. But when one looked around, one saw that the house was emptier than ever before, the battered harmonium away, the picture gone from the wall. Apart from the flowers there was little left except the three-legged sofa which required such skill to sit on.
"Good morning," said the organist, fresh and cheery from his beloved daily work, his mere presence a peace-giving refuge, "and be welcome."