Claudio Favorito itibaren Balete, Batangas, Philippines

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04/23/2024

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Claudio Favorito Kitabın yeniden yazılması (10)

2019-12-05 02:40

Erotik Öyküler Koleksiyonu Bölüm 2 (DVD) TrendKitaplar Kütüphanesi

Tarafından yazılmış kitap Tarafından: DVD

A slice of life. A truth telling, of life growing up near metro Toronto on a little slice of paradise called The Toronto Islands, specifically Wards Island next to Algonquin Island, just a ferry ride away from the metro shore of Lake Ontario. There are three main islands - Centre Island, Ward's Island and Muggs Island - just off Queens Quay Terminal that are easily accessible from the foot of Yonge Street in 10-minutes by ferry boat. In truth telling one is drawn into the simplicity of that which is, which you cannot make up, even if it seems stranger than neat formulaic fiction. Thorvault draws you in with a meticulous telling of a boy in a dream. This is a real take on a real slice of a real boy coming of age in the age of the Canadians, aka Milton Acorn and Gwendolyn MacEwan and a boy awakening to the culture of his time. The bittersweet tale unfolds in a coming-of-age story of the author set in Ontario in the early 1960s with a drawn-from-life snapshot of two authentic giants of Canadian poetry, Milton Acorn and Gwendolyn MacEwen, at a ferry crossroads in their lives. We meet the people the author grew up with and find a way of life, apart from the city, in a quiet paradise. Just people getting along, unsuspecting of the shadows of greatness beneath which they play. Island life is easy going, hockey season, pole vault, writing assignments, first love, and a ferry ride to poetry. Makes you wanna “holler”, throw up both your hands. And on the ferry ride home you are wishing for more, as thoughts open onto a world of future possibility. Maybe “Oaks” will soon produce a few more acorns of the humble truth...? Dark Pines Under Water Gwendolyn MacEwen 1941 - 1987 This land like a mirror turns you inward And you become a forest in a furtive lake; The dark pines of your mind reach downward, You dream in the green of your time, Your memory is a row of sinking pines. Explorer, you tell yourself this is not what you came for Although it is good here, and green; You had meant to move with a kind of largeness, You had planned a heavy grace, an anguished dream. But the dark pines of your mind dip deeper And you are sinking, sinking, sleeper In an elementary world; There is something down there and you want it told. The Island Milton Acorn Since I'm Island-born home's as precise as if a mumbly old carpenter, shoulder-straps crossed wrong, laid it out, refigured to the last three-eighths of shingle. Nowhere that plowcut worms heal themselves in red loam; spruces squat, skirts in sand or the stones of a river rattle its dark tunnel under the elms, is there a spot not measured by hands; no direction I couldn't walk to the wave-lined edge of home. Quiet shores -- beaches that roar but walk two thousand paces and the sea becomes an odd shining glimpse among the jeweled zigzag low hills. Any wonder your eyelashes are wings to fly your look both in and out? In the coves of the land all things are discussed. In the ranged jaws of the Gulf, a red tongue. Indians say a musical God took up his brush and painted it, named it in His own language "The Island". This is so Canadian in the geographic wilderness of a great nature bound country.

Okuyucu Claudio Favorito itibaren Balete, Batangas, Philippines

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