Despite all Cecily's words, he had not felt the connection in him until now. Breathing Welsh air, seeing the Welsh colors: the green of hills, gray of slate and sky, the pallor of whitewashed stone houses, the ivory dots of sheep against the grass. Pine and oak trees were dark emerald in the distance, higher up but closer to the road the vegetation grew green-gray and ochre.-Will.
— Apr 08, 2013 05:17PM
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