Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Kansas (empty silence)


Really not too much to say about Kansas, so I'll let someone else handle it:
The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call "out there." Some seventy miles east of the Colorado border, the countryside, with its hard blue skies and desert-clear air, has an atmosphere that is rather more Far West than Middle West. The local accent is barbed with a prairie twang, a ranch-hand nasalness, and the men, many of them, wear narrow frontier trousers, Stetsons, and high-heeled boots with pointed toes. The land is flat, and the views are awesomely extensive; horses, herds of cattle, a white cluster of grain elevators rising as gracefully as Greek temples are visible long before a traveler reaches them.


Extra credit if you can ID the passage without Google.

2 comments:

  1. I'd guess Steinbeck...

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  2. I was born in SouthWestrn Kansas. It is such a sad thing that you went to Western Kansas and yet you seemed to have missed the heart of it.

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