Word: homers
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...belongs to friends. Inside, insulation bulges out from between, the exposed uprights of the walls; partition separate the interior into three small rooms at the front and a large kitchen-dining-living-bedroom that looks out through windows over a tidal inlet of Kachemak Bay to the village of Homer and the bluffs above the town. A big, black, Franklin stove warms the cabin, burning lumps of soft coal that are washed from an exposed vein in the cliffs on the other side of the inlet and carried by the waves to the beach by the cabin. Their dinner table...
BARBARA PETERSEN lives in Homer, Alaska, a tiny town on the lower Kenai Peninsula to the south of Anchorage. She and her husband Lance lived in Anchorage when Art Davidson had first arrived there, and she got to know Art pretty well from giving him rides whenever she saw him hitchhiking. Barbara is in her mid-thirties; she's a sensitive, articulate woman who refuses to try to be sophisticated and who insists on smiling even when there's pain in her eyes. She worked this summer in Homer's only industry, the Alaska Seafoods cannery, along with a group...
...minutes and 15 seconds later it closed at 2,200,000 guineas-$5,544,000, the highest price ever paid for any work of art. The expensive transaction eclipsed both the previous public-auction record, $2.3 million in 1961 for Rembrandt's Aristotle Contemplating the Bust of Homer, and the record for a private sale, an estimated $5,000,000 that was paid in 1967 for Leonardo's Ginevra dei Bend, by Washington's National Gallery of Art. The buyer of the Velásquez, Alec Wildenstein, 30, vice president of the New York firm of Wildenstein...
...century literature-a literature shadowed by darkness and blindness-there can hardly be a more powerful intimation of union through suffering than Borges' fiercely compressed parable The Maker. Included in the present volume, this 1958 work suggests Borges' own fate by invoking the life of the blind Homer. Before blindness sets in, writes Borges, the poet lives only by fleeting sensation: "Little by little, the beautiful world began to leave him; a persistent mist erased the lines of his hand, the night lost its multitude of stars. He went deep into his past, which seemed to him bottomless...
...there is salvation in Borges, it is in memory that overcomes the isolation of blindness, that links Borges with Homer or a gaucho-or with the reader...