The bars open at 11 a.m. The sun shines. The Mediterranean is blue to the horizon, the air crisp, the flowers entwine orange and olive and cork oak trees. The Alps, steep and rocky, reach to the sea. Towns and villas cling to cliffs, encircle the bays and coves where bows of sailboats and yachts nod at anchor.
Sidewalk cafes are noisy and crowded.
It's all a Kodak picture point. But he was at his best, many felt, when he wrote about Texas, his home for virtually his entire life. Along these hills cut with dry creeks is a point where, in the far, far distance, Fort Worth's skyline is first seen. When the sun's angle is just right, there's a glimmering flash off the buildings, a beacon's wink of welcome. I've seen it a hundred times, coming home to Fort Worth.