The Emerald Atlas
“Pym, it wasn’t until midafternoon that Kate and Emma were sitting beside Abraham’s fire, drinking cider and listening to him gripe about how far he’d had to go to find a goose.“Not that I’m complaining. I like a fat goose as much as the next man, but sending an old fella like me wandering over half the country on a day cold as yesterday? Cold as the grave it was. As two graves! More cider?”Abraham’s room in the tower was completely round, with windows facing out in every direction. But the room...’s most notable feature, apart from its perfect circularity, was the fact that every available bit of wall was covered with a photograph. And the pictures didn’t stop there. There were piles on the floor, piles stacked under chairs, loose piles sliding off tables. There were hundreds, thousands of photos, all of them yellow and faded with age.“Used to be,” Abraham said when they’d entered and were gazing about in amazement, “I had a great passion for photography. Perhaps because I was born with this bad leg and couldn’t work the mines.MoreLess
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