“Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”

~ Cormac McCarthy, The Road

no accompanying image or film could give those words any more meaning, they would only be a distraction.
let’s just take them in, inhale their beauty and deep respect and do our best to not make them creatures of the past but of an eternal present.

2 thoughts on ““Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”

  1. Marc – thank you for reminding me of the wonderful prose of Cormac McCarthy – even in one of the toughest novels I have ever read.

    • thanks Andy. i’m constantly amazed by McCarthy’s writing, most notable in ‘All the pretty horses’. its simply mind-blowing at times. more often enough i’ll just have to put the book down and think of things. its rather distracting after a while… 😆
      and if you think The Road is tough try Blood Meridian. its horrible and there’s absolutely nothing to like about any of the protagonists but yet, its impossible to put down.
      cheers,
      marc

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