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Identity and the Environment... Person and Place...

bluish's picture

pg. 224: "The river itself was shruken and disappointing. They walked around the edges of the mud flats, then climbed back up and sat on the boulders, looking down the valley. She took a pint of whiskey from the pocket of her jacket and drank from it, then passed it to him. She lit a cigarette and exhaled. 

'Tell me about your father,' she said."


pg. 210: "The naked arch of his neck bent to my gaze, and I felt my confusion abate beneath a wave of tenderness and power. His breath, warm against my palm, made my skin tingle all over and then I remembered-- This is what it feels like to be fourteen and thrilling at the edge of sex when it is still brand new, testing the water where his desire laps your shore, sticking in a toe, and not understanding the swiftness of the current--"


pg. 199: "You can see the window beyond the horizon of course, olive-drab wool that stretches between your knees, which are spread wide open to the brakes grinding and squealing, metal against metal. Instead of dissonance, however, this creates a harmonic accident--eerie overtones, not of this earth. You want it to go on and on, indefinitely resonating, but it terminates in the heavy clank of two-ton cars coupling. You cringe at the insertion of cold metal. The pain is like no other."