Select the sentence with a sensory detail that describes a sight.
8
To celebrate his sixtieth birthday, Carmen's father organized a family vacation to
Alaska. On the long northward flight, Carmen was thinking that she would have
preferred a tropical island. But she changed her mind on their third day in Alaska,
when they hiked out onto Root Glacier with a guide. Standing inside an ice cave
beneath the glacier's surface, Carmen stared in awe at the glowing neon blue of
the glacial ice surrounding her. This was definitely worth the trip!
Sma
out a
Submit

yóu can speak tó no one, replíed the kní

conversing outside - a.

it was the fourth thursday of november and cassey headed down to the woods to pick up the mushrooms mother had told her to to complement the turkey the family was going to have as they did every day.

she usually sweapt the floors and went for water, but today that task was asked to her younger sister since matthew, the only boy, had gone to the town with father in order to find cheap fabrics to make clothes.

the shoe business was not being as profitable as before, so they had decided to make clothes to sell in the village.

today there would not be time to play with mary, her neighbour and friend, to play to be still in water, a game that was not only part of the fun in the village, but also very useful if there happened to be an acciddent when she had to cross the shore by boat, as she had to at least twice a week to visit grandma.

bored and uninterested in the task she had been imposed to do, cassey started to pull up the best mushrooms she could see. suddenly, something hard was found by her tender fingers. she couldn't believe her eyes: a gold ring crowned by a diamond appeared between her fragile fingers

before she had time to think what to do, a deep voice spoke at her back.

- i heard your mum asking you to pick up mushrooms for the turkey - said her beloved tom - would you collect mushrooms for me next day?

- yes, sure. are you planning to invite someone important? - cassey asked.

- of course. i'm planning to invite two families, mine and my wife's. will you marry me? - tom asked on his knees.

cassey looked at the ring, then at tom, and she felt the moisture in her eyes. she hugged him, kissed him and in those simple actions the answer of her life was implied.

when connie willis was 12 years old, her mother died. in january of 2003, willis was interviewed for locus magazine. she recognized that death is a major issue in her writing, specially because the vacuous and appalling things that people tend to say in order to support you when someone you loved dies. what really saved willis was reading. books, literature, are not false. poetry tells the truth (as dickinson said: "tell al the truth but tell it slant"). it's not a escape from reality, but a nigromantic experience where whe can talk to people that exist no more. that's the definition that connie willis gives in her novel "passage": «(literature) it's the people who went before us, tapping out messages from the past, from beyond the grave, trying to tell us about life and death! ». enrique vila-matas has figured out the esence of literary experience when he said in a lecture that he intends to have his revenge against life (and death), because to write (and to read) is a form of living and a way to remember. i like in that sense the idea of not leting anything human to get lost. i feel fiction and poetry as the shapes of an ancient anger. like in the poem from dylan thomas: «do not go gentle into that good night / rage, rage against the dying of the light».

but there is another aspect that i have learned from connie willis's quote. in his famous work "danubio", the italian writer claudio magris describes literature as house removals. some messages reach us, other messages get lost in the labyrinth. those messages which are our inheritance teach us how to live and how to die, how to love and how to hate, how to laugh and how to cry. i think that tales really shape us if we listen to them. maybe through the stories we read we learn how to emphatize with others, knowing that the bells tolls for every each of us.