R.T. Pritchett, Through The Trades, 1890
A hammock is the best place to spend a midsummer afternoon. When you climb into a hammock, you are linked to reality only by the narrowest of cords. Suspended in time and space, you shed any sense of weight or corporal substance. As you sway with the gentle rhythm of the breeze, you drift and dream between heaven and Earth, glimpsing the blue truth of sky beyond the wagging treetops.
Then suddenly the spell is broken by a dog's snout poking you, a rumble of thunder or a child's cry, and you are brought back to a world you temporarily left behind. But the hammock's solace is not forgotten. Its gentle crescent lingers.
- Robert Kyff
Steve Martin, "Unspoken Words"
04 June 2011
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