Friday, October 15, 2010


It is more difficult to fix on the map the routes of the swallows, who cut the air over the roofs, dropping long invisible parabolas with their still wings, darting to gulp a mosquito, spiraling upward, grazing a pinnacle, dominating from every point of their airy paths all the points of the city.
Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

1 comment:

Christine said...

I love that feeling of looking up into the spiraling leaves ... a little dizzy, a little jolt of awe, a little pang of loss ...