This semester’s travels have provided me with the chance to get back into an old habit of mine: reading. Two of the books I’ve read on planes, trains and automobiles:
“Mr. Bones understood. He always understood what Willy said to him. This had been the case for as long as he could remember, and by now his grasp of Ingloosh was as good as any other immigrant who had spent seven years on American soil. It was his second language, of course, and quite different from the one his mother had taught him, but even tough his pronunciation left something to be desired, he had thoroughly mastered the ins and outs of syntax and grammer.”
-from Paul Auster’s Timbuktu, a story about life from a four-legged perspective.
Wonder what the mutts are thinking about us wobbly two-legs?
“‘It’s devil-worship,’ Burton cried again. ‘It’s unclean devil-worship, I tell you. If I had known, I would have gone away.’
“Thomas laughed harshly and went back to sit on his manger, and he listened to Burton’s praying. It pleased Thomas to hear how Burton’s supplication fell into the rhythm of the guitars.”
-from John Steinbecks’ To a God Unknown, a story about the virile, earthy, spiritual connection between land and man.