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.
20 July 2009
The Future
"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race." H. G. Wells
No comments:
Post a Comment