Life in a Northern Virginia suburb of Washington, D.C. B.M.A.T.C., and Etruscan typewriter erasers. Blogged by David Gorsline.
Sunday, 24 October 2004 
|
As I read further into Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, the mood grows progressively darker. I think I've found a literary match for Sally Mann's recent Corcoran show—most particularly, the passage of photographs of an escaped convict's suicide in the woods.
Still, the day had an air of menace. A broken whiskey bottle by the log, the brown tip of a snake's tail disappearing between two rocks on the hill at my back, the rabbit the dog nearly caught, the rabies I knew was in the country, the bees who kept unaccountably fumbling at my forehead with their furred feet... (p. 150)
posted: 1:51:27 PM |
 D. Gorsline, Proprietor
   
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
