Photo by Christian Joudrey on Unsplash Certain places seem to exist mainly because someone has written about them. Killimanjaro belongs to Ernest Hemingway. Oxford, Mississippi, belongs to William Faulkner...A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his image. Joan Didion (in her essay Quiet Days in Malibu )
Photo by Filip Zrnzević on Unsplash It had rained all morning and then suddenly cleared at noon, and the air, freshly washed today, was like dark crystal in the sharp clarity and sombre focus it gave to every image. James Jones in From Here to Eternity (as mentioned in Joan Didion's essay In the Islands )