I feel like when I was a kid and we moved to the island. I walked down the road, downhill, and everything was so pretty. It was spring. In a way, it felt like I was going back to another time. There were farms nearby with draft horses. At some point I got an impression of two men having some kind of heated discussion or argument next to some horses. Later, when I grew up, I remembered it, and began to believe those two were Thoreau and Emerson.
No comments:
Post a Comment