Do you love paintings and all that? Well, I am not much of an art person, but I do appreciate it (if I can understand it) – but this site ( I do not know how I ended up here) is just plain awesome. You HAVE to check it out. It is called Janet Hill Studio, and did I say I loved it? You can order the prints (I think), I just wish this person was from here OR hope to see some of this kind of work here too.
Every Tuesday, I be posting the opening paragraph (maybe two) of a book I decided to read based on the opening paragraph (s). This meme is hosted by Diane from Bibliophile By the Sea, come join us and share what you are reading.
Today’s paragraph is from Ghost on Black Mountain by Ann Hite.
Mama warned me against marrying Hobbs Pritchard. She saw my future in the tea leaves: death. I was young, only seventeen, and thought I knew all there was to know about life. Nobody could tell me different. Mama and me lived on the edge of Asheville, not the rich part of town but not the worst part either. We attended Hope in Christ Church. It was our place to go on Sundays to pray for those worse than ourselves. The Depression brought hard times on everyone. The Church did its part by serving one meal a day. People lined up at the doors hours before time to eat. We could only take one hundred people for each meal. And I was there behind the counter ready to serve. Folks would fight over the places in line. It nearly turned my heart inside out. One afternoon Hobbs Pritchard came walking up to me all cocky and sure of himself.
“What are you doing here at a place like this? You are way to pretty.” He smiled and opened his hands like he was some angel sent from God to ask me that very question. I never thought to ask what brought him into a soup kitchen.
What do you think would you read this? I think it is pretty awesome and un-put-downable (**ebook**) 🙂