And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day.

And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day.
Cormac McCarthy

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There is no such joy in the tavern as upon the road thereto.
- Cormac McCarthy
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Where men cant live gods fare no better.
- Cormac McCarthy

And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day. Cormac McCarthy

And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day.
Cormac McCarthy