He was standing in an old road, rutted and ancient, that wound up a black hill towards the sky, where a great flock of black birds was gathering. The birds were like black letters against the grey of the sky. He thought that in a moment he would understand what the writing meant. The stones in the ancient road were symbols foretelling the travelers journey.
05 January 2009
When I use a word it means precisely what I want it to.
"Perhaps then one reason why we have no great poet, novelist or critic writing today is that we refuse to allow words their liberty. We pin them down to one meaning, their useful meaning. A meaning which makes us catch the train, the meaning which makes us pass the examination."--Virginia Woolf
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