Steinbeck Country.
June 3rd 2008 After reading so many of Steinbeck’s novels it is finally realized to me to be driving through the Salinas Valley. The clouds are low and giant towers—not skyscrapers, not complexes, but giant storage cylinders—disappear into them. The air smells sometimes of growing strawberries and sometimes of burning deadwood. Sunlight is diffused evenly over all the visible earth as if we are trapped
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