Characteristically, a chapter begins by describing a natural scene which I will summarize succinctly rather than quote verbatim:
sunset smoulders;
boughs are black;
puddles are red;
sky is green;
cold wind whimpers;
dusk swallows hoarsely crying crows.
We find many such descriptions in Poul Anderson's works. I do not quote this one here because I have quoted it twice before (see here) and, on both occasions, I find that I had analyzed it in ways that I would not have thought of doing this time!
This is the last post tonight. Now fully recovered from that cold, I must soon return to other activities like gym or walking around town, meditating in the Cathedral and lunching in the Gregson Centre so I might be posting less often.
1 comment:
Kaor, Paul!
The sun would still have to be above the horizon after the weather cleared for puddles to look red.
Ad astra! Sean
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