robertlampros-blog

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“Cathedral Peak and Lake” by Ansel Adams http://anseladams.com

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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/153747.Moby_Dick_or_The_Whale?ac=1&from_search=true

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https://robertlampros.wordpress.com/2016/08/29/mountain-of-silver-dust/

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The Beyonder (mythology) https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B2Z6slaYlGJWd2hoaHlNczRDUGs/view?usp=sharing

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Freedom must ring from every mountain side.  Let us go out this evening with that determination.  Yes, let it ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.  Let it ring from the prodigious hill tops of New Hampshire.  Let it ring from the mighty Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.  Let it ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.  But not only that.  From every mountain side, let freedom ring.  Yes, let us go out and be determined that freedom will ring from every mole hill in Mississippi.  Let it ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.  Let it ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.  Let it ring from every mountain and hill of Alabama.  From every mountain side, let freedom ring.  And when that happens we will be able to go out and sing a new song:  'Free at last, free at last, great God almighty, I’m free at last.'

MLK, 1957 (St. Louis)

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Here are the first ten pages of a short story I’m writing, “Unbridled Fire,” about a couple who go to Las Vegas and get married.

https://robertlampros.wordpress.com/2017/07/26/unbridled-fire-short-story-in-progress/

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The Death of Superman

https://www.amazon.com/Death-Superman-DC-Comics/dp/1563890976

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The Dark Hurts, by John Phillips https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Hurts-John-Phillips-ebook/dp/B01LKU0NPU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500638575&sr=1-1&keywords=john+phillips+the+dark+hurts

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https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01M59RBYD/ref=x_gr_w_glide_bb?ie=UTF8&tag=x_gr_w_glide_bb-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01M59RBYD&SubscriptionId=1MGPYB6YW3HWK55XCGG2

A MESSAGE FROM CITSON by William McManus AMBROSE’S EIGHT-PLUS-ONETH by Judith Field THE SELICH by Kenneth O’Brien NEW DAWN by Pascal Inard ILLUMINATION by Gary Buller CONTAMINATION by Lee Clark Zumpe ST. ZENO’S SCHOOL FOR THE GIFTED by Charlotte H. Lee MOUNTAIN OF SILVER DUST by Robert Lampros MORPHIA by Vincent Sakowski

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“The Guest,” by Albert Camus https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B6099bbYlhJnZDFpRjc2TnFfa0U/edit From "The Guest": Besides, he had enough to resist a siege, for the little room was cluttered with bags of wheat that the administration left as a stock to distribute to those of his pupils whose families had suffered from the drought. Actually they had all been victims because they were all poor. Every day Daru would distribute a ration to the children. They had missed it, he knew, during these bad days. Possibly one of the fathers would come this afternoon and he could supply them with grain. It was just a matter of carrying them over to the next harvest. Now shiploads of wheat were arriving from France and the worst was over. But it would be hard to forget that poverty, that army of ragged ghosts wandering in the sunlight, the plateaus burned to a cinder month after month, the earth shriveled up little by little, literally scorched, every stone bursting into dust under one's foot. The sheep had died then by thousands and even a few men, here and there, sometimes without anyone's knowing.

In contrast with such poverty, he who lived almost like a monk in his remote schoolhouse, nonetheless satisfied with the little he had and with the rough life, had felt like a lord with his whitewashed walls, his narrow couch, his unpainted shelves, his well, and his weekly provision of water and food. And suddenly this snow, without warning, without the foretaste of rain. This is the way the region was, cruel to live in, even without men--who didn't help matters either. But Daru had been born here. Everywhere else, he felt exiled. He stepped out onto the terrace in front of the schoolhouse. The two men were now halfway up the slope. He recognized the horseman as Balducci the old gendarme he had known for a long time. Balducci was holding on the end of a rope an Arab who was walking behind him with hands bound and head lowered. The gendarme waved a greeting to which Daru did not reply, lost as he was in contemplation of the Arab dressed in a faded blue jellaba, his feet in sandals but covered with socks of heavy raw wool, his head surmounted by a narrow, short cheche. They were approaching. Balducci was holding back his horse in order not to hurt the Arab, and the group was advancing slowly.

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The Fiction Desk 2017 Flash Fiction Contest http://www.thefictiondesk.com/submissions/flash-fiction-competition.php

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Romance, Deception, and Destiny in My Cousin Rachel

https://robertlampros.wordpress.com/2017/06/22/film-review-romance-deception-and-destiny-in-my-cousin-rachel/