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... the floodgates are open, the froth-coloured and brown rapids topple over the rocks, the sound rushes. The sound is one of the first things I remember, that was what warned them... a heavy fog had risen... it was dead silent, they could hear what they thought was the howling of wolves, muffled by forest and mist, it meant they had taken the right direction. Then there was the pouring noise of the rapids ... the howling of the village dogs.
Margaret Atwood, Surfacing, McClelland & Stewart Ltd., Toronto, 1972, p. 17.
PLACE: Northern Quebec
TIME: Memories of her past (during World War II)
CIRCUMSTANCE:
I'm cold, I huddle my shoulders up; drops ping onto my skin.
Margaret Atwood, Surfacing, McClelland & Stewart Ltd., Toronto, 1972, p. 31.
PLACE: Northern Quebec
TIME: 1972
CIRCUMSTANCE:
Red pines, bark scaling, needles bunched on the top branches. A kingfisher is perched on one of them, making its staccato alarm clock cry...
Margaret Atwood, Surfacing, McClelland & Stewart Ltd., Toronto, 1972, p. 34.
PLACE: Northern Quebec
TIME: 1972
CIRCUMSTANCE:
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