![]() ![]() I would cradle it at the roots of a sycamore, say, or in a hole left by a chipped-off piece of sidewalk. For some reason I always “hid” the penny along the same stretch of sidewalk up the street. It was a curious compulsion sadly, I’ve never been seized by it since. ![]() When I was six or seven years old, growing up in Pittsburgh, I used to take a precious penny of my own and hide it for someone else to find. I find myself returning to one particular passage that strikes with the grandeur Dillard is able to extract from the humblest of acts and the most middling of moments. She does this over and over in her 1974 masterwork Pilgrim at Tinker Creek ( public library) - one of the most beautiful books to bless a lifetime with, which also gave us her magnificent meditation on the art of seeing and the two ways of looking. April 30, 1945) has a way of coaxing the miraculous out of the mundane with such commanding gentleness that ordinary life has no choice but to unmask its extraordinary dimensions. ![]()
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