Spent an enchanted five minutes this morning, between marking examination scripts, on the shores of Lake Apmoojenegamook in The Maine Woods. I was in the company of Henry David Thoreau and we were listening to the voice of the loon, loud and distinct, from far over the lake. Well, old Thoreau was listening and describing it so vividly that I heard it loud and distinct in SAC, just by the window looking out on our little bit of landscape.
The magic of inhabiting two places and two times at once. Aren't words strange things? Especially from the pen of a master
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