Saturday Morning

Had he remained standing there too briefly, chances are he would not have let the place get to him and consequently decided to devote his life to it. A few minutes, maybe. Long enough to hear the wind in the already wind-bent pines, the wind in his ears, the wind in his trouser legs, the pebbles under the soles of his shoes, his hand fiddling with coins in the pocket of his leather jacket, the oystercatcher’s shrill, Morse-like biik-biik-biik-biik. I picture my father turning to the cinematographer and saying: Listen to how quiet this place is.

Linn Ullmann, ”Unquiet: A Novel


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18 thoughts on “Saturday Morning

  1. You quoted from this author a month ago, and when I saw this beautiful quote I went into our local digital library and found the novel. I just checked it out so I can read it, thanks Dave.

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  2. “the wind bent pines” Instantly knew he was standing swept up in the midst of shoreline, holding his breath against the beauty, overwhelmed he exhaled, drinking in.. nourished in the solitude…

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