Charles A. Gunnison, A Napa Christchild; and Benicia's Letters
“ Crescimir, with Jovita leaning on his shoulder, stood at the west window looking out over the misty valley where the real seemed ghostlike in the gray evening haze, and even those things with which they were familiar, seemed in the fading light to take to themselves unknown forms."Strange world!" said Jovita, meditatively, "Real and Unreal so often blended that we can never say which is tangible and which is air." ”
