All his life Robert Grainier would remember vividly the burned valley at sundown, the most dreamlike business he’d ever witnessed waking—the brilliant pastels of the last light overhead, some clouds high and white, catching daylight from beyond the valley, others ribbed and gray and pink, the lowest of them rubbing the peaks of Bussard and Queen mountains; and beneath this wondrous sky the black valley, utterly still, the train moving through it making a great noise but unable to wake this dead world.

Godt sagt! (0) Varsle Svar

Sist sett

MarteAnniken RøilKirsten LundPiippokattaAvaIngunnJStig TEgil StangelandFindusLeseberta_23Marianne  SkageHarald KGrete AmundsenHilde Merete GjessingJoakimGeir SundetIngunn SRisRosOgKlagingWencheHilde H HelsethLilleviKarin  JensenAkima MontgomeryJeanetteVegardGrete AastorpTove Obrestad WøienSigmundAgathe MolvikNora FjelliTonesen81John LarsenCathrine PedersenGodemineKjell F TislevollMarianneNsiljehusmorBeathe SolbergsomniferumMarianne M