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May. 26th, 2007 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amalthyaSaturday 8:09 pm
Saturday, May 26th, 2007
One of the things you take for granted is the still life of Africa. You look onto the horizon here and see the silhouettes of mountains against the blue of the sea. It reminds me of Nyiragongo, and Congo, and Lake Kivu.
But at night -- that pitch darkness, despite the life on the mountain, is somehow reassuring. Things are still, serene...
It was so shocking to see the mountains bordering the Riviera lit up and sparkling and rimmed with glowing roads and houses and activity.
I'm reminded of sitting on a veranda along Lake Victoria in Uganda, watching the complete tranquility and the small, quivering dotted lights of the intermittent fisherman, nightfishing (though being careful of the shrieking eels).
Today after the rainstorm, I was surprised to look down and see a snail, moving quickly across the wet cement and blending in completely were it not for its little orange-tan shell. I'd always thought that snails moved slowly -- of course that's the old joke -- and while I'd seen giant jungle snails in Kenya, they usually didn't move at all.
But this snail was resolute, and there was a certain elegance to its movement, that although he was obviously undulating and propelling himself across the ground, his little antennae stretched out in front of him. What do snails even eat? I realized I didn't know.
I found it even more interesting than my current book (I'm a biologist for a reason), One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest, which I borrowed from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bigrob since I didn't have another book to read. I'd never read it before and I should update it on goodreads per lauren_lief's example.
Saturday, May 26th, 2007
One of the things you take for granted is the still life of Africa. You look onto the horizon here and see the silhouettes of mountains against the blue of the sea. It reminds me of Nyiragongo, and Congo, and Lake Kivu.
But at night -- that pitch darkness, despite the life on the mountain, is somehow reassuring. Things are still, serene...
It was so shocking to see the mountains bordering the Riviera lit up and sparkling and rimmed with glowing roads and houses and activity.
I'm reminded of sitting on a veranda along Lake Victoria in Uganda, watching the complete tranquility and the small, quivering dotted lights of the intermittent fisherman, nightfishing (though being careful of the shrieking eels).
Today after the rainstorm, I was surprised to look down and see a snail, moving quickly across the wet cement and blending in completely were it not for its little orange-tan shell. I'd always thought that snails moved slowly -- of course that's the old joke -- and while I'd seen giant jungle snails in Kenya, they usually didn't move at all.
But this snail was resolute, and there was a certain elegance to its movement, that although he was obviously undulating and propelling himself across the ground, his little antennae stretched out in front of him. What do snails even eat? I realized I didn't know.
I found it even more interesting than my current book (I'm a biologist for a reason), One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest, which I borrowed from
bigrob since I didn't have another book to read. I'd never read it before and I should update it on goodreads per lauren_lief's example.
