Thursday 31 January 2013

Great Sentence of the Week #12

I love weather: winter sunshine poured out like an oil slick on an ocean of chill air with the suspended odours of simmering bushes and basking rocks; fierce winds that rock the trees, combing the twigs and old nests out of their tresses, tug-o-warring with earth for their roots. Symptoms of Place (Blackman)

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