Ken Kesey. Sometimes unbearably want (Sometimes great folly) (№ 5191)

On its Northern shore highway, via the South ridge. At a distance of ten miles through it, there is no bridge. And yet on the southern shore, like a ruffled bird, sternly sitting in his nest, stands the old wooden two-storey house resting on the interlacing steel beams, reinforced with sand, clay and logs. Look...