Was ist jetzt damit wieder?

Da kann sie nicht mit um.


Aber um wieder zum Thema zurückzukehren:

Zitat

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Spring is coming. Its mnemonic is in the earth and in the branches, in the greening of the buds, the new spears poking among the dead reeds – and even while the cold still creeps into my clothes, I think of the warmth that will come to chase it, soon. The grass is wet around my ankles. The air is still. From here I can see what is left of Grandy’s cottage, and below it the half-gone pub, the village green. The rusting arc of the swing frame rises like a monument. Each year, between water and neglect, less and less of the village remains. Grass grows in tufts from walls. Silt covers gardens. Crabs run across the broken cobbles of the road. I listen to the pip, pip of the oystercatchers and a solitary curlew’s call, and it seems strange to say it, but I am not unhappy. Dawn comes. I turn around and walk back the way that I have come, up the path, away from the river – towards the high house, which is my home.

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Julie Greengrass - The High House

Bei diesem bedeutungsschwangeren Pathos (sorry!) weiß ich direkt wieder, warum ich so gerne Hemingway lese:
"I drink to make other people more interesting." Zack, alles gesagt.

Aber mit dem Buchauszug kann sie um.
Ganz wunderbar.Poesie zum Mitsehen und Mitfühlen. Wunderschöne Bilder.

Zitat von Larry Iutbally im Beitrag #17

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Da kann sie nicht mit um.


Aber um wieder zum Thema zurückzukehren:

Zitat

---

Spring is coming. Its mnemonic is in the earth and in the branches, in the greening of the buds, the new spears poking among the dead reeds – and even while the cold still creeps into my clothes, I think of the warmth that will come to chase it, soon. The grass is wet around my ankles. The air is still. From here I can see what is left of Grandy’s cottage, and below it the half-gone pub, the village green. The rusting arc of the swing frame rises like a monument. Each year, between water and neglect, less and less of the village remains. Grass grows in tufts from walls. Silt covers gardens. Crabs run across the broken cobbles of the road. I listen to the pip, pip of the oystercatchers and a solitary curlew’s call, and it seems strange to say it, but I am not unhappy. Dawn comes. I turn around and walk back the way that I have come, up the path, away from the river – towards the high house, which is my home.

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Julie Greengrass - The High House

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Zitat von LFB im Beitrag #18

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Bei diesem bedeutungsschwangeren Pathos (sorry!)

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Wir verstehen uns genau deshalb so gut.

Ihr beide seid echte und romantische Hippies. Dafür mag ich Euch.✌️