A Bibliophile's passtime (good Books, favorite Books & more stacks o' Book Quotations)

Kätzchen · 12-28-2012, 06:47 PM

Potok, C. (1972). My Name Is Asher Lev. New York,NY: Random House.

That summer I lived in a house on the edge of the dunes. My room was a low-ceilinged attic with a window that looked out on the dunes and the beach and the ocean. In the early morning, I could see the sun on th ewater and the silver foaming of the surf. The sun rose through the morning mist and burned mist away, and then was golden on the beach and white on the Cape Cod houses a few hundred yards up the dunes, where dark scrub brush grew in the sandy earth. Gulls wheeled and called above the water and the sand, their wings stark white in the sun. I watched the gulls from the window of my roon and from the porch of the house, and I painted them over and over again, using watercolors or washes of oils; painted their soarings into the sun, their wings in the wind, their wide diving circles over the surface of the waves. Often I did not paint at all, but sat on the porch listening and watching, feeling the salt wind on my face, hearing the surf and the cries of the gulls" (Chapter 10: pp. 251).

12-28-2012, 06:47 PM	#8
Kätzchen Member How Do You Identify?: Femme Preferred Pronoun?: She, please. Relationship Status: Attached to my granddaughter & chosen friends and family.. Join Date: May 2010 Location: Enjoying life @ home ツ Posts: 16,111 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 29,633 Thanked 33,541 Times in 10,659 Posts Rep Power: 21474868	Potok, C. (1972). My Name Is Asher Lev. New York,NY: Random House. That summer I lived in a house on the edge of the dunes. My room was a low-ceilinged attic with a window that looked out on the dunes and the beach and the ocean. In the early morning, I could see the sun on th ewater and the silver foaming of the surf. The sun rose through the morning mist and burned mist away, and then was golden on the beach and white on the Cape Cod houses a few hundred yards up the dunes, where dark scrub brush grew in the sandy earth. Gulls wheeled and called above the water and the sand, their wings stark white in the sun. I watched the gulls from the window of my roon and from the porch of the house, and I painted them over and over again, using watercolors or washes of oils; painted their soarings into the sun, their wings in the wind, their wide diving circles over the surface of the waves. Often I did not paint at all, but sat on the porch listening and watching, feeling the salt wind on my face, hearing the surf and the cries of the gulls" (Chapter 10: pp. 251). __________________ “When you change, don’t announce it: Just bloom.” — wordsofawisemind.