The alchemy of words, strung together to conjure images of a place and time, both real and imaginary.

These from The Gift Of Stones by Jim Crace,

There were outsiders close by on that morning, said my father. ‘As we came onto the hill, breathless from the climb, all could see a distant, breakfast fire, plaiting a rope of smoke for the sky. There was the sneeze of tethered horses. There was the smell of meat.’