an excerpt from a typed page & some iphone notes:
14 July 2011
This week I read John Steinbeck's, The Red Pony. It is now one of my favorite stories.
"Then he lay on his back in the grass and looked up at the dumpling summer clouds. By closing one eye and destroying perspective he brought them down within reach so that he could put up his fingers and stroke them. He helped the gentle wind push them down the sky; it seemed to him that they went faster for his help. One fat white cloud he helped clear to the mountain rims and pressed it firmly over, out of sight." (from Part II: The Great Mountains)