Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Collage 308

As over a plush carpet, the horses walked over the field, splashing in puddles now and then as they crossed the roads. The misty sky went on imperceptibly and evenly descending to earth; the air was still, warm, soundless. Now and then came the whistle of a hunter, the snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the squeal of a hound strayed from its place.
p. 495

Lynn Waskelis
from page 623-624 of original text
collage, oil crayon, ink
made 12/10/10
page 495-497 Pevear/ Volokhonsky translation

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