Blue Highways

Near my place, there is a public bookcase besides a playground, with a glass door on each side. People can put books inside if they don’t want them any more, and you can take books out. Sometimes, there are interesting books inside. You take a book you don’t know, its like going through a door into a room you did not know existed. You give chance a chance and turn a corner the other way. Yesterday, I found William Least Heat Moon’s “Blue Highways” inside. I like the book.

Nobody could invent such a book. Invented books are a function of the author’s pre-existing knowledge. But reality has more properties than what anybody knows, so a good non-fiction book can be much richer than any fiction.

I am a bit feeverish since yesterday and took sick-leave. But yesterday suddenly summer started. After a cold and cloudy may, the weather suddenly turned sunny, sky is blue without a cloude, and it is warm, even hot. Now I am sitting on my terrace, reading, following the author on his tour arround the USA, along small streets, watching as the author also is giving chance a chance, turning the other way, to go somewhere, again and again.


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