Just finished Cormac McCarthy's novel 'The Road'. It is beautiful and terrifying, holding in it's power the rare effect of stealing your gaze when you most want to look away. It made me cry a little.
It is one of those stories which continues to do it's work even now that I have set it aside. One such line from the book that has been occupying me comes in the wake of a violent encounter. The man (as he is known) is washing blood from his son's hair and laying him to sleep by the fire. This taking place in the bleak remnants of America at the end of the world. Glimpsing his internal monologue it reads 'Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them.'
Not sure why I considered this worth sharing. I just did and now I have. So there it is.
dp
About Me
- FEIG
- Feig is an emerging Anglican community based in Gloucester, UK. This is a shared blog, written by some of those who are part of the community. The views here are only representative of those who have posted them but should give a flavour of our small corner of the Church.
Links
Followers
0 comments:
Post a Comment