Saturday, June 11, 2005

From behind 1.37

He drank his tea. He heard the clack of his dog's old nails on the floor. Hadji sat at his feet, looking up, hungry like all the aged. His dog that had run in the breathless snow, stronglegged, young, his ears back, his keen glances, his pure smell.
A life that passed in an instant.
J. Salter, Light Years, 223.


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