They talk. Often, their conversation is unintelligible. The subjects they address are varied: foreign languages, national monuments, the last days of Karl Marx, worker solidarity, the time of the change measured in Earth years and stellar years, the discovery of America as a stage setting, an unfathomable void -- as painted by Dore -- of masks. Then the boy follows the extraterrestrial away from the road and they walk through a wheat field, cross a stream, climb a hill, cross another field, until they reach a smoldering pasture.
(It's better to create than destroy what's unnecessary)
Showing posts with label Gustave Doré. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gustave Doré. Show all posts
Saturday, January 24, 2009
2666 - pg. 720
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Labels: Gustave Doré, John Cowper Powys, Karl Marx
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