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.
Showing posts with label Lord Dunsany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lord Dunsany. Show all posts
23 March 2010
Rambling
I think that travel comes from some deep urge to see the world, like the urge that brings up a worm in an Irish bog to see the moon when it is full. ~Lord Dunsany
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