The act of reading ... begins on a flat surface, counter or page, and then gets stirred and chopped and blended until what we make, in the end, is a dish, or story, all our own.
— Adam Gopnik

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May 21, 2011

The page I'm reading now...

Traveling northwards through the night
Heading to a Scotland
Of forbidding mountains, and poetry,
And sea; home to me, of course,
But to one whom I love
A place of unknown and unpronounceable names;
May the rain that will surely greet us
Be gentle; may the sky over Ardnamurchan
Allow a glimpse of islands, of Coll, perhaps,
Or Tiree; may she encounter kindness
And the things that kindness brings,
My wishes for her, now, the one I love,
As we travel northwards through the night.

      Barbara lay in complete silence. She could have skipped out of bed and embraced Hugh, hugged him, showered him with kisses of gratitude. But she did not do this, because she was awed by the moment. 'My wishes for her, now, the one I love.' That's me, she thought. That's me.
-- from The Dog Who Came In From the Cold, by Alexander McCall Smith

{the image is Train Landscape, by Eric Ravilious (1939)}

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lyn said...

I love AMS & this is a lovely quote. I can't wait to read the newest London book, Conspiracy of Friends. I should have it at work this week. Thank goodness Barbara dumped Snark!

Bellezza said...

I'm not so fond of Alexander McCall Smith, but I do love the photograph and the imagery created with the poem. xo

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