Commonplace: N. Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn

“The rain diminished, and with nightfall the aftermath of the storm moved slowly out upon the plain. The last of the wagons had gone away from the junction, and only three or four young Navajos remained at Paco’s. One of them had passed out and lay in his vomit on the floor of the room. The other were silent now, and sullen. They hung upon the bar and wheezed, helpless to take up even the dregs of the wine that remained. The precious ring of sweet red wine lay at the bottom of a green quart bottle, and the dark convexity of the glass rose and shone out of it like the fire of an emerald. The green bottle lay out in the yellow glow of the lamp, just there on the counter and within their reach. They regarded it with helpless wonder.”

~ N. Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn

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