“And every evening would bring its familiar strangeness, and crickets would sing the whole night long, under her windows and in every part of the black wilderness that stretched away from Fingerbone on every side.  And she would feel that sharp loneliness she had felt every long evening since she was a child.  It was the kind of loneliness that made clocks seem slow and loud and made voices sound like voices across water.  Old women she had known, first her grandmother and then her mother, rocked on their porches in the evenings and sang sad songs, and did not wish to be spoken to.”
~Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

I delight in well-expressed truth.  Never have I been able to describe that slowing of clocks and distancing of voices, but I have experienced it often.  Marilynne Robinson’s books – the two I have sampled – are beautiful.  You should read them.

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