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Feb. 21st, 2005 @ 02:08 pm if a famous nature writer falls in a forest
Reading Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Her style is so unbelievably intense--it's like she only writes when she's in the midst of an orgasm. Her words flow crazily across the page, passionate and disjointed, digressing across mind and setting and spirit like blood gushing from an open wound. Incredibly specific descriptions of incredibly vague abstract concepts. This woman is madly, madly in love with nature, the kind of person who gets all hot and bothered looking at paintings of landscapes.

It's not as philosophical as it wants to be--though it is, in all fairness, pretty deep--but it kinda turns me on.
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