“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, 2006
4 comments:
This guy is hallucinating. I eat trout all the time and I never saw any maps or mazes on their backs. :)
Maybe they're just visible to the assiduously reverent. what do you think? :)
The slackers have more time to look for the maps and mazes. But then most of us eat rainbow trout instead of brook trout. :)
Touché. hahaha..
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