Two If By Sea
“In the truck still lettered Tenacity, Frank and the boys arrived on a dove-colored afternoon, driving over an arched stone bridge into a half-cobbled village thoroughfare that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be in the nineteenth or twentieth century—there being no question of the twenty-first. As they paused, a green April mist that seemed equal parts liquid and vegetal shimmered in the air, and then, for a minute, rain fell in earnest.
“The people live out in the street,” Ian said.
It seemed t...hat way. Houses and stores bumped up against the thoroughfare, with no front yard or parkway except a scrap of tufty grass tucked behind ancient dry stone walls—their slabs stacked like shrunken books. At the back of buildings that clustered together like a toy village, there were small yards, with play structures, tumbles of wild roses and balls of shrub, that rose up to the curved and clefted hills, where old packhorse tracks and winding lanes slipped through a verdant quilt of new green, a burnished brown, and a child’s Easter purple.MoreLess
“The people live out in the street,” Ian said.
It seemed t...hat way. Houses and stores bumped up against the thoroughfare, with no front yard or parkway except a scrap of tufty grass tucked behind ancient dry stone walls—their slabs stacked like shrunken books. At the back of buildings that clustered together like a toy village, there were small yards, with play structures, tumbles of wild roses and balls of shrub, that rose up to the curved and clefted hills, where old packhorse tracks and winding lanes slipped through a verdant quilt of new green, a burnished brown, and a child’s Easter purple.MoreLess
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