One of my favorite children's writers.
Been collecting his books for years.
He saw the horizon waiting to be set on paper and be seen forever, and went down again for paper and paint box, into the empty camp [school boys from the city camping in the country], where the wind moved tent- flaps and the smoke, one speaking like a thought in the night, and the other silent like the moment before sleep. Michael knew about both, because thoughts sometimes shouted at him when he was alone, and the sound of Northumberland Road would go away just before sleep came, though if he noticed they were gone he woke again. The camp was as lonely as a skeleton in a desert.
William Mayne, Summer Visitors, Oxford University Press, 1961, page 182
No comments:
Post a Comment