We begin to reflect that it is after all much like
other places, and that our fine romantic view of it was due to some
accident of light and colour, some transfiguring mood of our own
mind; and then we set out in search of another city which we see
crowning a hill on the horizon, and leave the dull place to its own
commonplace life. But to begin with comradeship is to explore the
streets and lanes first; and then day by day, as we go up and down
in the town, we become aware of its picturesqueness and its charm;
we realise that it has an intense and eager life of its own, which
we can share as a dweller, though we cannot touch it as a visitor;
and so the wonder grows, and the patient love of home. And we have
surprises, too: we enter a door in a wall that we have not seen
before, and we are in a shrine full of fragrant incense-smoke; the
fallen day comes richly through stained windows; figures move at
the altar, where some holy rite is being celebrated. The truth is
that a friendship cannot be formed in the spirit of a tourist, who
is above all in search of the romantic and the picturesque.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76