Eyes Wide Closed
"Another evening, as I'm returning to the lodge from Yavapai Point, an old spinster with a plate of ice cream in her hand remarks to her escort, a seedy-looking professor, as she licks the spoon: "Nothing so extraordinary about this, is there?" It was about seven in the evening and she was pointing to the canyon with her dripping spoon. Evidently the sunset hadn't come up to her expectations. It wasn't all flamy gold like an omelette dripping from Heaven. No, it was a quiet, reserved sunset, showing just a thin rim of fire over the far edge of the canyon. But if she had looked at the ground beneath her feet she might have observed that it was flushed with a beautiful lavender and old rose; and if she had raised her eyes to the topmost rim of rock which supports the thin layer of soil that forms the plateau she would have noticed that it was of a rare tint of black, a poetic tinge of black which could only be compared to a river or the wet trunk of a live oak or that most perfect highway which runs from Jacksonville to Pensacola under a sky filled with dramatic clouds."
- An Air-Conditioned Nightmare
I've been clearing my closet some, and yesterday, I came across my dusty book collection. This, being one of my favorite books of all time, easily persuaded me to leaf through it for a moment or two. Every time I open those pages, I rediscover some old favorite quote, shakily highlighted in my excitement. A quick shuffling of the worn sheets, creates a rainbow of highlighted words and cleverly put rants, by my favored author, and it makes me ever so happy that it's mine to keep. Die Kindle, die!!!
