terça-feira, agosto 10, 2004 Whiteford Lighthouse, 1865, UK.
"It will rain," he remembered his father saying. "You won't be able togo to the Lighthouse." The Lighthouse was then a silvery, misty-looking tower with a yelloweye, that opened suddenly, and softly in the evening. Now-- James looked at the Lighthouse. He could see the white-washed rocks;the tower, stark and straight; he could see that it was barred withblack and white; he could see windows in it; he could even see washingspread on the rocks to dry. So that was the Lighthouse, was it? No, the other was also the Lighthouse. For nothing was simply onething. The other Lighthouse was true too. It was sometimes hardly tobe seen across the bay. In the evening one looked up and saw the eyeopening and shutting and the light seemed to reach them in that airysunny garden where they sat.