Some other memories of the funeral have stuck in my mind. The old boy’s face, for instance, when he caught up with us for the last time, just outside the village. His eyes were streaming with tears, of exhaustion or distress, or both together. But because of the wrinkles they couldn’t flow down. They spread out, crisscrossed, and formed a smooth gloss on the old, worn face.
Albert CamusTags: humor vivid-description
She left her keys in the teeth of the lock where they would dangle all day.
Karen Thompson WalkerTags: vivid-description
how impossibly clean-cut, with its twin sets of twelve, neat as walnut shells.
Karen Thompson WalkerTags: vivid-description
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